A Thing Once Lost
by Xixuegui
Summary: Buffy S5/Angel S2 retelling. When Buffy receives a frantic phone call from Cordelia, she comes to L.A. to stop Angel's destructive obsession with Darla. Instead, Buffy and Angel find themselves facing a formidable alliance that threatens to end the world. But how are these events connected with a young boy with unusual powers? DISCLAIMER: CHARACTERS OWNED BY JOSS, NOT ME.
1. Prologue

I'd previously uploaded this story in one chunk, but I'm re-uploading now by chapter to make the format more reader-friendly.

"A Thing Once Lost" is an attempt to merge season 5 of Buffy and season 2 of Angel. I've always thought it was strange that Angel's friends wouldn't think to call Buffy for help after Angel goes off the deep end and fires them. Here's what I think would have happened.

I'm now writing a continuation of this story that will merge seasons 6 and 3, so please help me make that story extra awesome by reviewing this one and pointing out anything I need to address.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Prologue**

_The Gall'uth Dimension, Year 2 after the Deliverance_

The morning had dawned gloomy and damp on the plains of Gall'uth. Tom Deary had left the house quietly before sunrise to go on the hunt without waking his wife. It had been a long time since their last meal of meat and he hoped to turn their luck today.

He had tried every hunting ground he remembered, but the winter had been hard on the animals as well as the people of Gall'uth. After long deliberations, Tom had made up his mind last night: He had no choice but to enter the Cantarthian forest.

No one had ventured there in many years – not since the day a portal had opened in the woods and brought forth the terrible Glorificus, who had enslaved generations of Tom's ancestors until her sudden disappearance two years ago, after the terrible war of the gods that took so many lives. The people of Gall'uth had lived scattered in the far reaches of the country for so long, they were only just beginning to remember how to build houses and live together in villages.

Everyone in Gall'uth knew the story of how Glorificus had been banished. For time immemorial, she had ruled over the dimension with two other gods. But Glorificus had far surpassed the others in both cruelty and resourcefulness. Not content with merely demanding unquestioning obedience from the humans and lesser demons inhabiting the dimension, she had massacred all who displeased her.

In the end, even the other gods grew afraid of her. They joined forces and waged a terrible war which decimated the population. Finally, they had contrived to banish her, using a portal in a forest clearing. No one knew where she had been sent, although the story was told that she had been forced into a body made of human flesh and exiled to another dimension.

Tom wanted desperately to believe that Glorificus would never return, but like the other inhabitants of Gall'uth, he had avoided the forest so as not to tempt fate.

Much sooner than he had hoped, Tom found himself at the entrance to the forest. He took a deep breath and gripped his spear tightly as he reminded himself that he had no choice but to enter if he wanted to provide for his young wife.

As Tom stepped under the canopy of the trees, he felt as though they were closing in around him, stretching their branches to entwine them over his head and lock him in this place forever for some evil purpose known only to them.

Tom steeled himself and continued to walk. With every minute, he could feel the forest grow denser. Almost instinctively, he knew that all the time he was drawing closer to the clearing – the place where Glorificus had first appeared and last been seen, and from which she would surely return if such was the will of fate. He had never set eyes on it himself, but he could still remember his mother's threats – "if you don't do as I say, we'll leave you in the clearing." It was the same threat that had terrified children across Gall'uth for many years.

And suddenly, there was a flash of the brightest light Tom had ever seen. For a second, he heard voices, screams that seemed to come from far away. Whoever these voices belonged to, they were shaken by terror and grief. Horrified, Tom stopped and hid behind a tall bush on the edge of the clearing. For one awful moment, he believed that his presumption in coming to the clearing had brought on the return of Glorificus.

But when his terror subsided, he realized that Glorificus had not stepped through the portal. There was no more light, and only one small, strangely familiar sound. In his confusion, it took Tom a long time to recognize it. It was the sound of a crying baby.

Carefully, Tom approached the clearing. Part of him still feared he was about to walk into some terrible trap.

But sure enough: in the middle of the clearing lay a small baby boy, naked and crying with the force of complete sadness and desolation.

Astonished, Tom reached out and touched the baby's hand. It was clear to him that this was not the child of one of his neighbors – no one had ventured here in years, not even to hide the shame of an illegitimate child; of this he was sure.

After only a moment's hesitation, Tom took off his overcoat and swaddled the baby in it.

"Don't cry now. We'll be home soon."


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Something was wrong with the house. Buffy couldn't quite put her finger on what it was, but she knew that something inside the house wanted to harm her.

She was deeply familiar with physical danger, but her entire body seemed to strain against even approaching the place. It was strange that it should seem so threatening, Buffy thought. It was a cheerful green Victorian, set in the middle of a wide, open field, and the day was beautiful and sunny.

Hesitatingly, Buffy took another step. Almost as soon as she had, she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. Her face softened and she smiled warmly as she saw who was now standing next to her.

"Angel."

But the next second, her pleasure turned to panic.

"You can't be out here! It's the middle of the day. You'll die."

Angel looked at her, his face expressionless. "Let me come with you."

Buffy reached out to take his hand, but when she took it, she noticed it felt different. She looked up and saw a boy of about 17, with a thick curtain of dark brown hair framing his face.

"Who are you?"

He seemed to think about this for a moment. "That's a complicated question."

Before Buffy could ask the boy what he meant, he had vanished.

With a thrill of fear, Buffy realized she was already inside the house, although she had no recollection of walking in.

The inside of the house looked like nothing so much as the lobby of a hotel. A large, empty hall gave way to a series of staircases leading up, up, up to a second floor so high it was beyond her field of vision. Buffy looked around for any sign of Angel or the boy, but there was none. The place seemed deserted.

Except for one thing: On a circular seat in the middle of the hall sat a hunched-over female figure that seemed to be crying softly.

"What's wrong?" Tentatively, Buffy approached and reached out to touch the woman's shoulder. When the woman looked up, Buffy saw it was her mother.

"It's too late. It won't help."

"What do you mean, Mom? What won't help?"

Joyce opened her mouth as if to reply, but all that emerged was a dry, sickening choking sound.

"Mom!" Alarmed, Buffy bent over her. As she drew closer, she saw something on her mother's face shift and looked up.

Where Joyce's face had been, there was now a hideous mask – eyes wide and staring, bright red lips pulled into a lopsided grin. And suddenly, she noticed something else: The woman wasn't Joyce anymore. She was blond now, and wearing a bright red dress. Her face was horribly disfigured by angry burn scars.

Suddenly, the woman spoke – a greedy, eager voice.

"She's next."

Buffy's mind was racing. She felt somehow that she had seen this woman before, if she could only remember…

Before she could, she woke up.

**ɤɤɤ**

With a jolt, Buffy realized that what had woken her up was the sound of the telephone in her old room on Revello Drive.

She picked up the receiver, still shaking slightly.

"Hello?"

"Buffy."

"Cordelia?"

"You need to come right now."

**ɤɤɤ**

Angel leaned against the balcony railing of the Hyperion's fifth floor and let his gaze wander across the lights of the city. Other nights, each of those lights had meant something to him - a life, someone's path that might cross with his, an opportunity to help someone - maybe that last step that would finally get him to the end of the road. Redemption.

But tonight was different. Tonight, they were just lights. He had gambled big and failed in every way possible. Every bone in his body ached when he thought about the trials he had undergone for Darla's sake, and what they had cost him, both physically and emotionally – all for nothing. What had come after, he couldn't even allow himself to remember.

But the thought came anyway, unbidden but persistently gnawing away at the back of his head: What if he'd been just a little quicker? What if he'd paid attention, heard them coming?

He slowly turned his back on the lights and slid down the railing until he sat on the floor of the balcony. All this meant was that he'd have to try harder from now on – let go of his emotions and get ready to fight at their level.

He smiled bitterly at the next thought that entered his head. He wasn't sure where it had come from, but it was a familiar one. He was thinking of Sunnydale. Rationally speaking, he still knew that he had had to leave – there had been nothing there for him, no future. And yet, if he'd stayed, Darla would have been allowed to remain at peace. And maybe his own life would have been a more peaceful one.

He closed his eyes. Thoughts of Sunnydale always brought with them thoughts of Buffy. He was sure that when he'd open his eyes, he would see her there and reach out for her. Even now, as everything that used to matter in his life was receding from him, she still mattered.

He frowned irritably. If she could be here now, he would have only one thing to tell her: That Darla had taken him to a place where he couldn't allow anyone else to follow.

A thought occurred to him. What if he lost his soul again? It would be such an easy escape – seek out anyone who would have him and throw that soul so far away it would never be found again. He began to laugh softly to himself.

**ɤɤɤ**

Buffy watched as the highway snaked away in front of her mother's car, carrying her closer and closer to the place where Angel had gone to prove to himself that he could be a fighter – a real force for good, if given the chance.

She had understood why he needed to go, but she still missed him, especially now that her mother was sick, she had a little sister to think of and, in Glory, an enemy to face who seemed stronger than anything she had encountered before. All she wanted now was to feel the sense of safety that seemed to envelop her in Angel's presence.

She knew that she shouldn't have gotten into that car. Nothing but pain waited for her in L.A., and she was still reeling from Riley's departure less than a week ago.

But even now, after all this time, she couldn't resist an excuse to see Angel. No matter what it might cost her.

In her mind, she was still replaying her conversation with Cordelia. It had been a lot of information to process – Darla's return as a human at the hands of Wolfram & Hart, her disastrous influence on Angel's life, the way he had cut himself off from his only friends. Her renewed siring at the hands of Drusilla.

Cordelia had said that she believed Buffy was the only person who would now be able to pull Angel back from the edge. But below the surface, they had both acknowledged that the real reason Cordelia had called Buffy was because she knew it might be too late. Buffy had killed him before, and as she watched the lights of Los Angeles appear on the horizon, she knew that she might have to do it again.

**ɤɤɤ**

He didn't know how long he'd lain there when he suddenly became conscious of a sound close by. Slowly, his mind slid back into focus and he recognized the sounds as words. Then, he recognized the voice too.

"Angel."

Slowly, he turned his head in the direction of the voice. Then it spoke again.

"Angel! I'm talking to you."

There she stood, looking down at him, her entire body coiled with exasperation. Only a slight glimmer in her eyes betrayed that behind the exasperation, there was concern – and just a little bit of fear. Fear of him, he wondered?

When he spoke, his voice sounded far away to him.

"Buffy? How long have you been here?"

"Long enough to know something's very wrong. No one downstairs. No lights on. And you here, lying on the floor. "

"I fired them. And you should go too."

She huffed. "OK, we'll get back to this 'I fired them' business later. For now, I just need you to tell me what the hell is going on."

He tried to form the words he needed to speak to make her go away, but they wouldn't come.

Finally, he said: "I... I couldn't save her."

"Save who?"

"Darla. She was dying. Same thing that was killing her before she was turned. She wanted me to turn her again so she'd live."

"Oh God, Angel, I'm…"

"I didn't do it. I went to a… contact for help and he told me about these… these trials. Like a series of tests I would have to pass. That if I got through them, Darla would get another chance at life."

He pulled himself up and looked at Buffy for the first time, his face expressionless.

"I was the one who killed her, Buffy. I owed her that."

Buffy swallowed hard and he knew she was remembering that night at the Bronze, some four years ago now. She didn't know Darla's death had replayed in his head many, many times since then – the way she had looked at him as she died, with her eyes full of pain and surprise at his betrayal.

He suddenly found it a lot harder to keep talking, so he stared at a small spot on the wall in front of him to keep his mind focused on the conversation.

"The trials… they were one of the hardest things I've ever done. But it wasn't enough." He swallowed. "This guy at the trials… he told me that Darla already got her second chance at life. When Wolfram & Hart brought her back. That there wasn't anything he could do."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Buffy's jaw working.

"I took her back to her room. I… I was still weak from the trials. Otherwise, I'd never…"

He buried his face in his hands. He could hear her moving beside him and felt her hand on the back of his neck.

"She… Drusilla was there all of a sudden. Darla tried to fight her off, but Drusilla was too strong for her and I… I couldn't help. There were too many of Wolfram & Hart's thugs with her." He looked up. "Buffy, she turned her."

"I know, Angel. And I'm so sorry. But we have to focus. We have to stop them before they kill more people. Where are they now?"

"I don't know. I walked away. I locked the door and I walked away."

"What are you talking about? What door?"

"It doesn't matter. Nothing matters now."

**ɤɤɤ**

She hadn't planned to do it, but before she knew what had happened, she had taken Angel's hand and pulled him up until he stood right in front of her. She wanted to ask more questions, and most of all, she wanted to be alone and think.

But as he stood there, so very close to her, the connection between them she hadn't felt in so long flared up and she felt his desperation wash over her, and how much he needed to feel something that wasn't pain or disappointment. She thought briefly of Riley, but it was no more than a small ripple on the surface before her eyes met Angel's again.

She slid her hand down the front of his shirt and used her other hand to pull his face down to hers. As soon as their lips met, he pulled her close and pushed her against the wall.

"Angel?"

He didn't respond and instead began kissing her fiercely. She pushed him away.

"Angel, you know we can't do this."

He took a step back and looked at her. The black desperation she saw in his eyes frightened her. For a moment, he seemed ready to back off, but then he moved towards her again.

"Buffy, I need this. I need to feel something besides the cold."

She looked at him pleadingly. "Have you thought for a moment about what we're risking here?"

"It doesn't matter anymore. If I keep going the way I've been going, you might not recognize me the next time you see me. Either way, we end up with a monster. The way I see it, there's only one of the two you know how to fight."

Buffy's eyes widened. "You _want_to become Angelus?"

"No," he said. "I want to protect you from Angel."

* * *

I LOVE writing dream sequences. Love, love, love it. Also, I suggest rereading the one in this chapter after you finish the story – it foreshadows many of the key plot developments. Because if there's anything I love more than a dream sequence, it's foreshadowing.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_France, 1765_

Darla's mind was racing. She had covered nearly a mile on the horse, which was swift and still in good form despite their recent flight across country. She knew now that she would escape. And yet…

It had been no more than 12 years since she had made a companion for herself. Over the past 150 years of her existence as a vampire, she had learned to view that span of time as the blink of an eye.

But even in that instant, she had come to relish the company of Angelus. His creativity and cruelty never ceased to amaze her. He took such pains with arranging his victims – the survivors never knew their loved ones had died until they had stepped right up to them.

She also remembered the night she had taken him to meet the Master. She had been shocked at his insolence, but it had also exhilarated her. He had opened up a whole new world for her – a world of freedom, of taking what they wanted and living as only the richest humans would dare. A world with a view.

In those first 150 years, she had never realized how dull her eternity had become.

Now, the boy who had rekindled her joy for the kill was fighting to the death in a burning barn in the middle of a French meadow, while she had made good her escape by knocking him down with a piece of wood. And he was surrounded by an angry mob led by Daniel Holtz, the most dangerous enemy they had so far managed to make.

She thought of the last thing he had said to her. "Even death, with the right companion…"

To her great annoyance, she could feel a tear running down her face. As anger and confusion flared up inside her, she dug her heels into the horse's flanks.

**ɤɤɤ**

When Buffy woke up, it took her a minute to remember she was in Angel's room. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear away her confusion as memories of last night came rushing in. It only took her a few seconds to remember what she had done. Suddenly feeling panic rising inside her, she sat up.

Angel sat in the chair she had tied him to last night as a precaution. He was facing away from her, but he didn't seem to be asleep.

"Angel?" Her voice was quiet and cautious.

He turned around and tried a timid half-smile. "Hi."

She looked into his eyes and felt a wave of relief wash over her when she saw that they were full of what seemed to be equal parts shame and confusion. The desperation she had seen in his eyes last night was still there, but its force seemed to have dimmed.

"You didn't change."

"No, I… I guess not."

For a moment, Buffy wasn't sure what to say, then settled for, "How do you feel?"

"Better… sort of. I still remember everything that happened, but being with you… it took my mind off it at least for a little while. That felt good, but I guess perfect happiness was still a long way off."

Buffy let herself fall back onto the pillows. It took Angel a minute to realize she was laughing – a dry, humorless sort of laugh.

"That's great… so all we need to do is make sure you're nice and depressed all the time."

He hesitated. "Buffy… you were right before. Part of me wanted to become Angelus last night – just to get some peace for at least a little while." He looked at her pleadingly, but she turned away. "I'm so sorry, Buffy. I should never have made you a part of that. I shouldn't have allowed myself to forget what… I did to you. And your friends."

When Buffy showed Angel her face again, it was composed, but it had also hardened.

"Buffy?"

"Look, let's… drop this for now. We've got some vamps to find."

**ɤɤɤ**

Drusilla inclined her head thoughtfully as she looked down at the young man. Not half an hour before, the last thing he had felt was exasperation that he couldn't have died someplace better than a shabby little alley in a rundown area of downtown L.A.

Drusilla chuckled as she remembered the way his blood had tasted of frustration and, ever so slightly, a sense of anti-climax. When she looked up, she saw Darla striding towards her, a smile of triumph on her face.

"I've found it. The perfect place. It's not too far from here either. We'll finally get all the mayhem we've ever wanted."

"And bloodshed?"

"And bloodshed."

"Good. This one's blood makes me sad. It tastes of moths and loneliness."

Darla rolled her eyes. "That's great."

Drusilla smiled. "Your heart is full of him."

"This guy? I didn't even know…"

"Daddy. Your heart is full of Daddy. And he remembers you too. If the slayer wasn't still…"

"Shut up!"

Drusilla smiled enigmatically and began to hum softly. As she did so, she put the head of her recent victim into her lap and ran her fingernails gently along his cheek.

"We could make a new companion for you. One whose heart doesn't reek of the slayer."

A shadow moved across Darla's face. "Let's just get to work. We have an army to recruit."

**ɤɤɤ**

"So where do we go first?"

"Merl."

"Excuse me?"

"He's the L.A. version of Willy the Snitch. Kind of ironic, considering he's a parasite demon."

Buffy gave Angel a confused look.

"They don't have tongues."

"Oh."

He kept walking down the sewer tunnel, but listened for Buffy's step behind him, ready to catch her if she stumbled on the dark, uneven floor. She hadn't said more than a few words to him since this morning.

Part of him wanted to defend himself, to argue that things might have looked much worse for both of them if Buffy had left him to continue down the path he was going.

With growing remorse, he thought of the people who had died when he'd locked them inside Holland Manners' house with Darla and Drusilla. They were Wolfram & Hart lawyers, but surely at least some of them had had nothing to do with the firm's campaign against him.

Then, there was also that nagging voice at the back of his head that never gave him a moment's peace, telling him there was only one way to ensure he couldn't hurt Buffy again: Making it clear that she couldn't have anything to do with him anymore, like he'd tried and failed to do last night.

He pulled himself out of his reverie and turned around to talk to her. But as he looked around, he realized that they'd arrived at Merl's.

**ɤɤɤ**

Buffy watched with an expression of polite interest as Angel suspended the scaly green demon head down from a sewer pipe above a pool of water.

"How about now?"

"I ain't tellin' you nothin'."

"Fine."

Angel dipped Merl's head into the water, holding him there for about five seconds.

"I'll talk!"

Dip.

"But I'm telling you, man, I don't know where…"

Dip.

"Is that how you get your rocks off, you sick…"

Dip.

"All right, all right. I heard about your girls, Godzilla, Darcilla, whatever. Uh… they've been hitting all the underground hot spots. Looking for demons to join some crew they're running. That's all I know, man, I swear."

Dip.

"Okay! Okay. Okay. You didn't hear this from me. But you know that little bar and bite club on La Cienega and Washington?"

Angel let the rope slip through his fingers for half an inch or so.

"That's the only demon haunt they ain't been to. Okay? Okay?"

Angel tied the rope to a pipe along the wall.

"Hey, hey, hey, you're gonna cut me down, right?"

Buffy watched as Angel set off down the tunnel. She pulled a knife out of her back pocket and cut the rope, sending Merl plunging head first into the pool.

"Sorry, Merl. He gets carried away."

Merl sat up and looked after her. "Freaking vampires."

**ɤɤɤ**

An hour after nightfall, Buffy was waiting in an alley outside the club. She ducked into a small alcove as she heard steps approaching, but soon recognized the hunched-over figure striding towards her.

"That was too close. She knew I was there."

Angel pulled off the grey hoodie he had put on to disguise himself, and allowed his face to morph back to human features.

"What do you mean?"

"Dru. She sensed me and she told Darla. I barely had time to get out of there before they found me."

He leaned back against a nearby lamppost.

"Did you at least find out what they're planning?"

"Yeah. They're auditioning for demon muscle at an abandoned factory a couple blocks away."

Buffy clicked her tongue in annoyance. "What is it with vampires and abandoned factories?"

"Look, all I know is, the next time we meet them, we'd better make sure it's on our terms."

Buffy looked at him warily. "What are you thinking of?"

"Firepower. In the literal sense. I know some people who can help us out."

**ɤɤɤ**

"I want to make this quick, alright? We get in there, weed out the losers, and get out. I've got precious little patience left."

Darla quickened her step as they approached the abandoned building. Drusilla stopped and tilted her head to one side, smiling.

"Oh, it's beautiful! Dank and dark. It reeks of death."

"That's motor oil, Dru."

"Can we buy it? It could be our castle."

"There's no view. Plus we're broke."

Drusilla reached out for the door handle. "Ten little soldiers, all in a line. A shot rings out, down to nine." She slapped her hands together in a passable imitation of the sound of a shot.

"Ten? I'd be happy if we could find three who can hack it."

Darla pushed past her and opened the door. The smell of blood hit her as soon as she stepped inside.

Drusilla regarded the assorted pile of demon corpses littering the floor quizzically.

"Dead already? Bad soldiers!"

Darla flinched as she heard the door slam shut behind her.

"I should have known." She spun around. "Angel?"

No reply.

"Angelus?"

Darla could hear footsteps echoing around the cavernous building.

"Neither, actually."

The voice came from a walkway above the main floor. "Look, much as I love to spend quality girly time with old friends from Sunnydale, I'll need you to stop bothering Angel. It's kind of rude to stalk your ex, you know."

A bitter smile appeared on Darla's face. "I should've known he'd send you to do his job. He always was a weak little boy."

As if on cue, Angel joined Buffy on the walkway. Darla scanned the upper floor to determine where he had come from, but the darkness in the far reaches of the building was too dense even for her enhanced eyesight to penetrate.

"Sorry I'm late. I needed to make sure I was ready for our little date," he said, smiling darkly.

Drusilla looked up at the walkway and frowned.

"It's not Daddy. It's never Daddy."

Buffy took a deep breath. "And it never will be again. You can count on that."

Darla smiled bitterly. "Tell yourself what you like. But he wasn't just any vampire, you know. He was a legend. No one could keep up with him – not even me. You don't learn that kind of darkness. It's innate. Soul or no soul, it's there and it's just screaming to get out."

While Darla spoke, she kept eyeing Angel, who was busying himself with something behind the walkway's railing.

Buffy laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah well, we'll just have to see, won't we?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Darla saw Angel give Buffy a barely perceptible nod and tensed every muscle in her body, ready for whatever might come next.

Buffy was smiling now. "Actually, let me rephrase that. I'll see. You won't."

Too late, Darla recognized that Angel was holding a match. In one swift movement, he lit it, held it to a short fuse and pulled Buffy off the walkway, out through a second floor window that opened onto a side roof.

Less than 30 seconds later, the factory exploded in a ball of flame.

* * *

This chapter borrows a fair bit of dialogue from season 2 of Angel. There will be less and less of that as the story goes on, but I felt like I had to ground the story in a familiar place of the canon before going off in a new direction. You might also recognize bits of the dialogue between Spike and Buffy at the beginning of the next chapter. But after that, everything's all new.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_The Gall'uth Dimension, Year 7 after the Deliverance_

Tom Deary had been sleeping uneasily of late. Once again now, he lay in bed, tossing and turning and thinking of that terrible afternoon three days ago.

He had been two miles outside the village, working the quarries, when he heard the screams. His wife would tell him later that three powerful Tarantu demons had invaded the village. Ordinarily, they ruled the mountains, but they, like everyone in Gall'uth, were tools of the gods' will. So they came, twice every year, to let the villagers know their place by making them watch as the Tarantu dined on one of their children.

No one had tried to fight the Tarantu in a long time now. They were too strong – all those who had tried to resist, had died. Once the Tarantu had their sights set on one of the children, the others left it to its fate. There was nothing to be done except to turn away and ask for deliverance.

On that afternoon, the Tarantu had chosen their prey: Tom's son Stephen, the infant he had found in the forest, now grown into a healthy boy of five. Tom's wife had left Stephen to play in the road, and had not heard the Tarantu approach in time.

Grief-stricken, the villagers had turned away and prayed the Tarantu would leave enough of the boy for a decent burial.

But this time was different. When the villagers turned to face the street again, the Tarantu were dead and the boy was alive.

Tom Deary had never told his wife that he had found Stephen in the dreaded clearing, or that he believed him to have come from a place far outside their knowledge or understanding. Now, that belief was robbing him of another night's rest.

**ɤɤɤ**

The first thing she became conscious of was the pain. The reason for her pain was recent, she remembered, but she still couldn't seem to think of a time when it hadn't been there. Slowly, she tried to piece her memories together.

There had been fire. Locked doors. No way to escape. She couldn't help a low whimper escaping her as the memories came shooting back. She tried to get more comfortable, but even the slightest movement created more agonizing pain in every part of her body.

She carefully opened her eyes by a fraction of an inch. With a jolt, she realized the charred hand lying next to her on the floor was her own.

Dear boy.

**ɤɤɤ**

Buffy spun around on her heels and took another run at the vampire. She got ready to aim a kick at him, but before she could get into position, she felt his fist hit her face. Cursing herself for her lack of focus, she prepared to go on the attack again. Her first patrol back in Sunnydale wasn't off to a great start, she thought.

Suddenly, she saw a pale blur leap over some nearby construction equipment, grab the vampire from behind and knock him to the ground. A second later, the vampire exploded in a cloud of dust.

"Spike! Why the hell did you do that?"

He grinned at her nonchalantly. "Not for money, if that's what you're thinking. Your heartfelt gratitude's plenty. I expect I'll be getting that any moment."

"Gratitude? For getting in my way?"

"Getting in your way? I saved you!"

"I was regrouping."

"You were about to be regrouped into separate piles. You needed help."

"I didn't need you. I never need you, Spike."

She tried to walk off and salvage what was left of patrol, but he followed, undeterred.

"Oh, I get it. You just don't like who did the rescuing, that's all. Heard you went to L.A. to see Captain Forehead, but it was a mighty short visit. Isn't it time you left that bundle of neuroses behind?"

"You and I talking about Angel is not a thing, alright?"

"Hit a sore spot, have I?"

"Remind me why I'm still talking to you?"

"How about, because I saved your pals from being smashed by a honking big troll thing while you were off gallivanting?"

"Yeah, well…" Not being able to think of an appropriately stinging reply, Buffy broke off in mid-sentence and they walked the cemetery in silence for several minutes.

After a while, Buffy looked up, to find that Spike was looking her up and down carefully. Feeling flustered, she finally broke the silence.

"Look, if you want to be helpful, eat some of those Watchers' Council guys. Even with your chip, those shouldn't be a problem."

"What are you talking about?"

"Some of Giles' former watcher buddies are in town to…" Air quotes. "Evaluate my methods."

She huffed. "They have something that could help us with Glory, some sort of information. But they won't hand it over unless I play by their rules."

"So? You've been The Apt Slayer, haven't you? Offing vamps left and right?"

"Not really. I didn't like their methods. They fired Giles for not playing along with this cruel test they make slayers go through when they turn 18. And then, when Faith poisoned Angel, they could have helped him, but they refused. So I quit the council."

"You mean I could be shot of that ponce as far as they were concerned?" His lip curled in amusement. "No deal on partying with the watchers, slayer. You're on your own with this one."

**ɤɤɤ**

As Gunn scanned the lobby, he thought to himself that the party couldn't have been going any better. Several former and a few prospective clients had come to the Hyperion at Wesley's invitation, to celebrate the de facto resurrection of Angel Investigations.

What was more, Angel was clearly miserable, which had been part of the point. Gunn, Wesley and Cordelia had agreed they would take him back on board despite the way he had treated them, as long as he agreed Wesley was in charge from now on. And as long as he agreed to spend at least two hours at the party.

Now, Angel was sitting in the darkest corner of the lobby, trying hard to blend into the wall. Gunn had just decided to stroll over and add to Angel's discomfort by trying to get him to dance, when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

There was a small door in the corner of the lobby that led to the laundry and boiler rooms. Gunn remembered locking it just before the party, but now it was open by a fraction of an inch, and someone – or something – on the other side was peering out at the guests.

Gunn checked his pockets to make sure he was armed. He found a small knife and a stake. It would have to do.

When he looked up again, the door had closed.

Gunn looked around and waited until he was sure no one was watching him. Best not to attract attention until he was sure there was reason to worry. Finally, he found his moment and slipped quickly through the door.

On the other side, the corridor leading to the boiler room was in complete darkness. As quietly as he could, Gunn slid along the wall. Suddenly, he stopped short. There was someone at the end of the corridor.

Gunn's eyes were still getting used to the darkness, but he knew the other person was looking at him. Through the window at the back of the corridor, the merest sliver of moonlight fell on the intruder's face. It was not a face Gunn recognized, but whoever it belonged to, it was horribly disfigured; its features rendered nearly inhuman by severe burns.

"Who are you?"

No response.

"Look, I'm not a guy with a lot of patience, and I'm definitely armed and dangerous. What do you want?"

**ɤɤɤ**

Buffy, Willow, Xander, Tara, Anya and Giles were assembled around the table at the center of the Magic Box.

"That was quite the speech you gave, Buffster," said Xander, smiling broadly.

"I'll say! Take that, evil… or, ya know, obnoxious watcher guys," Willow added. Tara shot her an affectionate glance.

"I don't know." Buffy frowned. "I mean, I'm glad we got the information we needed, and that they've left. But really, guys, this is bad."

Giles cleaned his glasses thoughtfully. "We certainly… find ourselves with a bit of a problem on our hands."

"You mean the whole 'God from a hell dimension' thing? Surely, the tried-and-true research-slayage combination won't fail us now?" Xander asked, hopefully.

Anya nodded emphatically. "Also, I think we're much better off already now they're gone. I really didn't like the look of that woman with the glasses and the strange bun on her head. I think she might have summoned me once when she was 16."

Ignoring Anya, Giles went on, "I don't know… if the council doesn't know a sure way of defeating Glory, I don't see how we can find one."

"Isn't it possible they're still just withholding information? Maybe if Buffy went after them again with that broadsword…" Willow threw in.

Buffy smiled weakly in response. "I doubt it. They know we're in the same fight. In the end, withholding information isn't in their interest."

Xander nodded thoughtfully. "So what's our next step?"

"Keeping Dawn safe. At least I know how to make that happen… for a while."

**ɤɤɤ**

Gunn took a step forward, but not quickly enough. Before he knew what had happened, the intruder had jumped on a shelf next to the window, and from there outside.

Gunn prepared to follow, but before he could pull himself up to the window, he slipped and fell onto something soft. With a thrill of horror, he saw that he was sitting in a pool of blood.

He had fallen over a body. Gunn braced himself and looked around. The body was that of a young woman, maybe 20 years old. He had seen her at the party – he couldn't recall her name, but he remembered Cordelia had pointed her out because she bore an uncanny resemblance to Angel's ex-girlfriend, Buffy. Angel had noticed it too – Gunn had seen him staring at the girl openly several times.

Gunn stood up and scanned the area around the body. He swallowed hard.

On the wall, a message had been written in the girl's blood. It read: "She's next."

**ɤɤɤ**

The assembled Scooby Gang looked up from their books as the chimes at the front door of the Magic Box clanged wildly and Spike rushed in the front door.

"Where's the slayer?"

No response.

"What? Have you all gone stone deaf?"

"It's just… you don't usually use the front door to get into the shop," Tara explained.

Anya frowned in dislike. "Yes! Don't think I haven't noticed you pawing the merchandise downstairs when you think no one's there."

"Look, never mind that now. Where's Buffy? I need to talk to her."

"What about?"

Spike sighed in exasperation. "I saw this Glory chick striding down the street as happy as you please, not too far from her house."

"That's old news," Xander said. "Glory went to Buffy's house and made some threats, but she didn't hurt anyone."

Spike shifted in embarrassment. "Well, anyway, I wanted to see if the slayer needs me to take care of the little bit for a while, make sure she's alright."

Giles' frown deepened. "Look, I'm sure your motives are very noble and all that, but you're too late." "Yeah, Buffy's gone to L.A. with Dawn and her mother," Xander chimed in. Giles shot him a scathing look.

Spike huffed angrily, turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door as he went and sending the chimes tinkling hysterically.

"Xander, I do wish you'd think occasionally before opening your mouth. Do the words 'secret escape' mean anything to you?"

**ɤɤɤ**

Angel played absentmindedly with a jasmine blossom as he looked around the courtyard outside the Hyperion, trying to clear his mind. It was no more than an hour ago that Gunn had rushed into the lobby and told everyone to go home.

The moment he had seen the body, it was absolutely clear to him who was responsible: Darla. They had spent 150 years together, sharing every kill, every danger – he could never mistake her work for anyone else's.

And yet, it was impossible. He had seen that building go up in flames. He kicked himself inwardly for not checking the perimeter afterwards to make sure Darla and Drusilla hadn't escaped.

What was more, he wasn't sure how to approach the subject with Wes, Cordelia and Gunn. They had only just begun to rebuild their friendships with him, and if they thought he had resumed his obsession with Darla, he might lose them again.

His head jerked up when he heard a leaf rustle behind him in the courtyard. For one second, he was torn between fearing and hoping that when he turned around, he would see Darla as he had first seen her – wearing a beautiful French dress, her hair curled and piled high on top of her delicate head.

But before he had braced himself to face her, a completely unexpected, wonderfully familiar voice sounded behind him. "Angel. We need your help."

**ɤɤɤ**

"She came to our home, Angel. Glory. She figured out where we live. She saw Dawn. I needed to get her out of there and find a place to regroup. Figure out what to do next."

Buffy and Angel retreated to Wesley's office for privacy and were now talking over a cup of tea while Dawn and Joyce settled in upstairs. Angel reached across the table and took Buffy's hand.

"Don't worry. You can stay here as long as you like. We'll figure this out together."

Buffy hesitated briefly, but decided not to withdraw her hand. "I told Giles we were going, and he said he'd cover for me on the slayage front. But I still haven't figured out what the hell to tell Dawn. She must be pretty confused."

"You'll have to tell her eventually, Buffy. She has to know what she is so she'll be ready if the worst happens and Glory finds her."

"I won't let that happen."

"Buffy, we'll protect her as well as we can, but we can't all cluster around her 24/7. At least not unless you tell her the truth."

"That she's not my sister at all? That she's a ball of cosmic energy turned into human form by a bunch of monks and that a god from a hell dimension is after her to unlock a portal and start the apocalypse? Yeah, that'll go over well."

* * *

If there's one thing we all know about Darla, it's that she just won't stay dead. Anyway, a factory explosion is hardly a fitting way for her to go.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_England, 1853_

The winter had been a particularly cold one. The residents of London hurried about their business, buried deep in coats and furs, and those who didn't depend on manual labor for their living rarely ventured out at all.

It was perhaps for this reason that few residents or servants at the fashionable Piccadilly lodging house wondered at the habits of the handsome couple renting the largest apartments there. During the bitterly cold, bright days, they were never to be seen outside their rooms.

Nevertheless, some of the maids had seen them return from an evening's entertainment the week before. The young man's handsomeness and the expensive fabric of the woman's dress had provided material for a steady stream of gossip ever since then.

"She's 30 if she's a day," declared Myrtle, the cook, as she cut up vegetables for that evening's dinner.

"And him so young and handsome! No older than 25, I'd wager," chimed in Laura, the kitchen maid.

"It'll end badly, mark my words," added Lizzy, the lady's maid. "I haven't seen a ring on her finger, God knows, and he'll never make an honest woman of her now."

"No more he should! He's much too good for her."

"That's unkind, Laura. You can tell she's very much in love with him. She doesn't let him see it, of course. But you can tell, the way she looks at him when she thinks he doesn't notice."

"Well, I'll tell you this: if I should meet him by himself, I wouldn't mind having a chat with him. He might like some company closer to his own age," Laura declared cheerfully as she took hold of the garbage pail and stepped out of the back entrance to dispose of it.

As she closed the door, she heard something shift behind her. She smiled shyly when she recognized the young man who had just stepped out of the shadow of the alley.

"Good evening, sir. Were you needing anything?"

The young man smiled handsomely. "Why, you're a pretty young thing, aren't you?"

Dinner was late that evening, and a week later, a new kitchen maid moved into the fashionable Piccadilly lodging house.

**ɤɤɤ**

Angel barely noticed where he was going as he descended the steps into the Hyperion's lobby. He still hadn't told Buffy about his suspicion that Darla was alive, and with so much on her mind, he wasn't entirely sure how to approach the subject.

In a way, it might be better not to tell her at all. The more he thought about the girl's death, the more he questioned his own certainty about it. The only thing that seemed to make sense was to investigate this death quietly and keep his suspicions to himself until he had solid proof to back them up.

"Good morning, Angel." Angel spun around and saw Joyce, who had entered the lobby just behind him.

Angel returned her smile uncertainly, feeling vaguely as though he'd been caught in a conspiracy. "Good morning, Mrs. Summers. I was about to make breakfast for everyone. Are you hungry?"

"Maybe a little later, thank you. I haven't really been very hungry lately. Have you seen Buffy this morning?"

Angel flinched a little. Buffy had made it very clear last night that he shouldn't expect to share a bed with her again any time soon.

"No, but I think she's still up in her room."

"Oh, good. I thought I'd lost track of both of my daughters this morning."

Angel raised his eyebrows, and Joyce added, "I went to Dawn's room earlier – she wasn't there and it looked like she'd made her bed, which seemed unusual." She added another uncertain smile. "She hasn't been around here, has she?"

"Sorry. I haven't seen her since you arrived last night."

Joyce hesitated. "Angel, I've meant to say… thank you for letting us stay. I know things have been… difficult for you recently."

"You're welcome here any time." After a few moments of embarrassed silence, he added, "I know you've had a tough time lately too. If there's anything else I can do to help, please let me know."

This time, Joyce's smile was less restrained. "Thank you for saying that, Angel. You know I haven't always been… completely happy about your relationship with Buffy. But she'll need as many people as possible in her life in case…" She self-consciously touched the shawl tied around her head. "In case this isn't over and done with yet."

**ɤɤɤ**

"I have news, oh Fragrant and Shiny One."

Glory, who had been contemplating herself in the boudoir mirror, turned around to face the scabby, robed demon currently hunched over in a mixture of awe and fear, and at a respectful (or possibly careful) distance.

"What news?"

"News of an instructive nature, Most Worshipful Glorificus. The slayer has left town."

Glory smiled quizzically. "Left town? When did _that _happen?"

"Last night, Your Dazzlingness. Almost immediately after you visited her."

"Oh, that's very interesting. She's running away. Do you know what that means, sweet, lumpy minion?"

The demon bowed slightly lower. "Enlighten me, oh Glorificus."

"How many times do I have to tell you to just call me Glory?" Glory waved her hand as though to swat away a distracting insect. "Anyway, what it means is that I was right: She knows where my Key is and she's trying to hide it from me. Where do we think she went?"

"The demon world of Sunnydale is buzzing with speculation on that very point, oh Splendiferous One. Many believe she has joined a former vampire associate, one Angel, who lives in Los Angeles."

Glory jumped up and down delightedly. "Finally, a place with decent shopping! We're leaving right now."

**ɤɤɤ**

By late afternoon, full-scale panic had broken out at the Hyperion. More questions and a search of the upstairs rooms had made it clear that no one had spoken to or even seen Dawn that day.

Everyone had assembled in the lobby for lack of anything better to do. Buffy looked up anxiously when Angel, who had been making a phone call in the office, came back to join them.

"I've called Kate. They'll have the patrols looking out for someone who fits Dawn's description, and also Glory's, just in case."

Cordelia snorted. "They have someone looking out for a skinny teenager and a blonde with too much makeup on? That description fits 99% of the L.A. population. The non-scaly part anyway."

Buffy glared at her. "Okay, not helping. What do we do now?"

"I think someone needs to just walk through the surrounding neighborhood and see if we spot her. Buffy and I can do that," Angel said hopefully.

"Alright, fine. But we'll also need to hit some of the spots that a teenage girl would want to get to. The big malls. Rodeo Drive. Hollywood," Cordelia added. "I'll take Gunn."

"Wait, why do I have to do the mall trip?"

"Because Wesley will probably be hitting the books, right?"

"Well, yes. I thought I'd look for something that can help us track her based on her mystical energy."

Joyce stopped obsessively kneading her hands and looked up. "I'll go with you, Buffy."

"Mom, you're not well. You need to stay here."

"I can't. I have to do something."

Wesley stepped in. "Mrs. Summers, I could use help going through some texts. There are quite a few to cover and it's a tall order for just one person."

"Also, someone needs to watch the phone in case she calls," Buffy added quickly.

"Alright," Joyce said reluctantly.

Buffy smiled gratefully at Wesley. "Let's get started."

**ɤɤɤ**

"Angel, what if Dawn overheard us talking about her last night?"

"You don't know that she did. She might not even have run away. Maybe…" He trailed off, realizing that he couldn't come up with a more comforting alternative. If anything, he couldn't shake the feeling that Dawn's disappearance and the death of the previous night were somehow linked.

To keep himself from panicking, he decided to focus on scanning the surrounding buildings and sidewalks for signs of Dawn, and avoiding the last few rays of sunlight that touched the roofs of the buildings.

"I'm sorry, Buffy. You brought her here because you thought I could protect her, and I couldn't even do it for a couple of hours."

"It's not your fault. I came here without any kind of plan. For all I know, running away has made things worse for us. Now Glory knows I have something to hide from her."

"It was a good instinct. When you can't win the fight, you run until you can."

Buffy smiled. "Is that what they teach you in champion school?"

"Not really – vampires might be dead, but we still have a survival instinct."

Again, they walked in silence for a while, on the lookout for Dawn. Every time they turned a corner, Angel braced himself, expecting Darla to step out of some alley and confront him.

Occasionally, Buffy stopped a passerby who seemed local or walked into a shop to show Dawn's picture around.

Eventually, Angel worked up the courage to speak again. "Buffy, I… I was wondering if we could talk about what happened a few days ago. I…"

The rest of Angel's carefully prepared speech was cut off abruptly when Buffy's phone rang.

**ɤɤɤ**

Wesley hummed thoughtfully to himself as he glanced through the Dark Chronicles for a reference to the Key or the monks who had created it. Suddenly, he heard a soft noise from the next room and looked up.

"Mrs. Summers?"

No response. "Mrs. Summers?"

Wesley decided to get up and check whether Joyce needed anything. When he reached the door, he saw her sprawled on the couch, unconscious.

"Oh God."

When Wesley found he was unable to revive her, he called 911.

* * *

Cliffhanger time! "The Body" kind of left open the possibility that Joyce might have survived if someone had been in the house with her. Is it true? Let's find out.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_Romania, 1898_

The mood in the carriage was triumphant. Drusilla sat in Spike's lap as they regaled each other with stories of their recent slaughter at the gypsy camp.

"What a wonderful mess we made, my Spike. Will you write a poem about it?"

"An epic one, my sweet. You'll be the beautiful, black princess rescuing those people from a long life of drudgery and hunger."

"And wrinkles, too."

"And wrinkles, too," Spike agreed and pulled Drusilla into a passionate kiss.

They were too cheerful to notice Darla hadn't said a word and was staring out of the carriage window. Now, she turned to face them angrily.

"Would you two cut it out? I'm trying to think."

Drusilla chuckled. "Poor Grandma is very upset about Daddy. She thought she could make the gypsies take away their curse."

Spike huffed. "Let Angelus fend for himself if he wants. He always spoiled our fun, didn't he, Dru?"

Drusilla pouted. "No. I liked Daddy's games. They took a long time, but they always ended beautifully."

Slightly ruffled, Spike added, "Well, I for one couldn't be more pleased to have you two finally to myself."

"There will be no having of any kind with me." Darla's eyes twinkled dangerously. "What makes you think I'm some piece of property, to be handed down to whoever happens along?"

"Fine. Be that way."

"You're no match for him, you know."

"For that ponce Angelus? I'd take him on in a fight any day and we'll see who comes out ahead."

Darla laughed drily. "The fact you would think I'm talking about physical strength proves my point. He was special, a legend of his art. The gypsy elder would have lifted the curse – I had him in the palm of my hand. But you had to rush in and kill his family before I could use them as leverage."

Ignoring Spike's protests, Darla resumed staring out at the dark landscape as it flew by. "And now he's gone," she whispered into the night.

**ɤɤɤ**

"It was a good thing Mr. Wyndam-Price here was around. Just a few minutes more and we might have been too late."

Buffy nodded numbly, barely taking in what the surgeon was saying. All she could think to do was hold on to Angel to keep from sliding onto the floor. She could barely control the nausea welling up inside her, and tried not to concentrate on how the room spun around her when she allowed herself to notice her surroundings.

"Will she be alright?" she finally managed.

"She's not quite out of danger, I'm afraid. But the prognosis is fairly good."

They had been sitting in the emergency room at Good Samaritan Hospital for some four hours, waiting to hear about the outcome of Joyce's emergency surgery. The whole time, Buffy had barely spoken a word, except to thank Wesley for his presence of mind.

"Can we see her?" Angel asked.

"Not yet. She'll still be out for another couple of hours. I suggest you go home and get some rest."

Buffy shook her head vigorously. "I can't. I have to be around when she wakes up."

The doctor looked at her intently and decided to resign himself. "In that case, I suggest you at least let the nurses show you to a quiet room on this floor for a couple of hours. This must have been a great shock and you're looking a little paler than I'd like."

Buffy realized she was too tired and sick to argue and nodded meekly.

**ɤɤɤ**

Glory frowned thoughtfully at her toes, which had become wrinkled during the hour or so she had been spending in the bath. She wasn't overly fond of this dimension, she thought, but they did know how to spoil their guests at the Beverly Hilton.

Briefly, she contemplated leaving the tub, but she had already decided against it when there was a timid knock at the door.

"Come in," she trilled cheerfully.

One of her unsightly minions shuffled into the room, head bowed so low that the ends of his greasy hair touched his toes.

"Marvelously fragrant Glorificus, I have good news. Your summons has been answered."

Glory raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Already? It's been less than a day."

The minion bowed so low that his ensuing comments would have been impossible to hear for anyone not endowed with the supernatural hearing of a goddess from a hell dimension.

"We carried out your most wise orders expeditiously. We have visited the local demon gathering places and conveyed your desire for anyone with information about the slayer to come forward and help the cause."

Glory gave a world-weary sigh. "Get to the point or come over here so I can liquefy your brains."

The minion swayed visibly, but continued. "At one of the gathering places, we met a young woman who indicated she has the information you desire. However, she insisted that she could only convey the information personally to Your Exalted Presence."

"And of course you let her get away with that. Sometimes I wonder what I even keep you minions around for," said Glory, visibly annoyed. "How do you know she has any information at all?"

"Forgive me, Most Splendiferous One, for my judgment is prone to error, but I believe she is trustworthy," continued the minion timidly.

"For once, that's true," came a raspy voice from behind the minion. The minion cowered as Glory prepared to protest this intrusion into her holiest of holies.

But before she could, the intruder had pushed past the minion and into the room.

"My name is Darla. I can help you find what you're looking for."

**ɤɤɤ**

When Dawn looked up, she realized she'd walked for hours without paying any attention to where she was going. As a result, she now found herself in a completely unfamiliar neighborhood dominated by warehouses and empty lots, with darkness descending fast.

Her head was still spinning with the information she'd overheard. Surely, her sister had gone crazy. None of what she had said made any sense.

And yet… her first instinct had been to run. And part of her knew why – because she was afraid that Buffy wasn't going crazy at all.

She remembered the many times she had encountered homeless or elderly people who had pointed at her, clearly distressed, telling her she didn't belong or that something wasn't right about her. The way that everyone seemed to stop talking suddenly whenever she entered a room.

What in the world was going on?

"Hey there!" she heard someone shout from perhaps half a block away. Not looking around, she pulled up the hood of her jacket and picked up her pace.

**ɤɤɤ**

"So you're a vampire. That's a promising start. Not much chance you're in league with the slayer, although I hear she prefers her boy toys on the wrong side of dead."

Darla's eyes flashed angrily. "She's gotten my companion of 150 years to kill me twice now. Let's just say I'm not her biggest fan."

"Twice, huh? I guess you won't mind me saying you're looking a little the worse for wear." Glory cast a disparaging glance at Darla, whose arms and face were covered in angry red blisters. The parts that weren't, were beginning to heal into an ugly, knotty surface.

"Well… at least he didn't finish the job this time. I'm still here. And this stuff is going to heal… perks of being a vampire."

"Look, whatever. Let's get to the point here. What do you know about the slayer?"

"She's at the Hyperion Hotel in Hollywood. I've seen her. Planning to stay there a while too, by the looks of it."

"Well, that's all very nice, but something tells me you didn't just come here to tell me that."

"No. There's something else you should know. She has the Key."

**ɤɤɤ**

Buffy frowned as she looked down at her mother. She looked very small in the hospital bed, and very frail. No comparison to her usual cheerful self.

Sadly, Buffy reflected that the time might have come when she could no longer rely on having her mother's shoulder to cry on, or her seemingly infinite supply of wisdom to tap for life advice. She suddenly felt very old.

As Buffy reached out and took her mother's hand, Joyce turned her head and smiled weakly. "Oh boy… have I been causing trouble again?"

Buffy immediately put on her most cheerful face. "I'll say. You gave us all a pretty good shock. Don't do it again, okay?"

"I'll try not to." Joyce looked at the IV feed stuck in her arm. "What happened?"

"You had some kind of hemorrhage. Probably related to the surgery." Buffy smiled as widely as she could manage. "But you're fine now. Wesley found you and we took you to the nearest hospital and they took care of it."

She looked the other way to blink away a tear that had appeared in the corner of her eye, despite her best efforts.

"Buffy." Joyce took her hand. "I'm not going anywhere quite yet."

Joyce tugged on Buffy's hand insistently. "Buffy, look at me. Even if something did happen to me, I think you'd be just fine. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for."

Buffy smiled sadly. "Yeah, well, I can't solve all my problems with slayer strength."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know. Thanks, Mom."

Joyce returned Buffy's smile, but then her expression became anxious. "What about Dawn? Anything?"

"We'll find her. Don't worry."

**ɤɤɤ**

After several hours of searching, Angel had finally found what he had been looking for in an alley at the back of the Hyperion – the merest suggestion of a scent. He knew it – in four centuries of immortal life, Darla had never changed it. It reminded him vaguely of the wildflowers that had spread their perfume through the night air on that turbulent occasion when they had met Daniel Holtz and his followers in France.

He smiled quietly to himself when he remembered the small wooden shed they had barricaded themselves in. When their pursuers had caught up with them and set fire to the shed, Darla had knocked him down with a substantial piece of wood. When he finally caught up with her again in Vienna, he had made her pay… but then again, she had always enjoyed his little games.

Grimly, Angel thought of the girl at the party, and of her lonely death in a dark hotel corridor. What had Darla intended by killing the girl – was it a warning to him? To Buffy? To both of them? But why – to get revenge? Surely, it couldn't be about jealousy.

Angel shook his head as though to clear it of these unpleasant thoughts. It was impossible that she truly cared enough about him to be jealous of Buffy. After all, she didn't have a soul.

**ɤɤɤ**

"Hey, wait!"

Dawn hunched up her shoulders and sped up, inwardly cursing herself for failing to secure one of the Hyperion's impressive collection of knives before leaving.

"Wait!"

Dawn felt a hand on her shoulder and, tensing up, spun around, ready to defend herself.

Instead, she saw a hand holding out the small bear charm that usually dangled off her backpack's zipper.

"You lost this. I think it fell off your backpack back there."

"Thanks," she said, quickly taking the bear. For the first time, she looked up at the person speaking to her, feeling a little sheepish about her initial fear.

What she saw didn't really inspire confidence – she could tell he was a boy or young man about her age, maybe a few years older. But she couldn't get a good look at his face, which was hidden under a hood pulled down low over his forehead. She noticed he was wearing gloves despite the mild weather.

The young man seemed to be looking down at his shoes in embarrassment, perhaps trying to think of something else to say.

Taking pity on him, Dawn said, "Um… that was nice of you. Thanks again."

"Sure." As he turned to go, Dawn caught a glimpse of his face, and his behavior suddenly fell into place.

"Hey… are you a demon?"

He spun around and for the first time, she got a real look at him. Even in the failing light, the green-grayish tint of his skin was clearly visible. Even if it hadn't been, his features betrayed his non-human origin: His eyes were set much deeper in their sockets than a human's would have been, under two prominent brow ridges.

At present, though, his eyes were as wide as they could be under the circumstances and his mouth gaped open for a second before he remembered to close it.

"Wait, what? No, I…. How do you…?" He sighed, and his face assumed a look of resignation. "Would you at least give me a head start?"

Dawn frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Usually, when a human sees my face, they pretty much start screaming and I run for it. If I don't, the police might pick me up. I really don't need that." He added, defiantly, "I haven't done anything."

"I won't scream. Actually, I'm glad. You're going to help me."

**ɤɤɤ**

Glory had finally recovered from Darla's rather stunning revelation. "And you know about my Key… how?"

Darla smiled enigmatically. "Let's just say, I know the place where it is right now. I know the passages, I know the ways to get in and out without being seen. I've overheard some things. Things that I believe interest you very much."

"Stop being so damn mysterious. What do you know?"

"The Key has been turned into human form. It's the slayer's sister."

* * *

Lots of information in this one. I always loved the idea that ensouled Angel could have been a decidedly short-lived phenomenon if not for Spike's premature killing of the gypsy elder's family, so I decided to explore the aftermath of that. Also, Dawn's new acquaintance is in fact a character from season 1 of Angel. Can you figure out which one? If not, you'll find out soon anyway.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_The Gall'uth Dimension, Year 17 after the Deliverance_

Tom had watched for many years as his son played hide and seek with the other children in the village. He knew Stephen was always a little faster and a little more adept at everything than the others, but he suspected Stephen had found ways of controlling himself. He couldn't help but notice that his son was always careful to stop short of appearing truly exceptional.

Smart boy, he thought. Fear of the unknown is a more terrible enemy than even the Tarantu.

Now, Stephen's days of playing with children were long over, and he had grown into a quiet young man. At the moment, he was busy chopping a pile of logs that would provide warmth for their family during the long, cold Gall'uth winter.

"Stephen." It was no more than a whisper, but he knew the boy would hear him. He firmly believed that Stephen could hear the rocks of Gall'uth's desert plains whispering to each other at night.

Sure enough, Stephen perked up his head and started walking towards him.

"Yes, father?"

"Come with me."

Tom led his son to the stable behind the house. When he opened the door, it was to reveal an impressive arsenal of knives, spears and crossbows, as well as several large wooden dummies Tom had carved himself late at night, when he knew no one would be watching.

"Father… what's this?"

"Son, I've thought long and hard about the dreams you've told me about. The demons and the demon fighters you see in them."

"I don't care about the dreams. All I want is to make them stop."

"I wish I could make it so, son. But I believe it means you were chosen for something."

"Chosen for what?"

"The old people tell of a calling. A special calling to slay demons. No one has been called in our dimension for many hundreds of years, but some say that the calling continues in others. If it is true that you are called, you will have to be prepared for it."

"I don't understand, father. Why do you think I'm chosen for this calling, if no one has been called for so long?"

Tom hesitated. "Son, it's time I told you about the day I first laid eyes on you."

**ɤɤɤ**

One night, an unusual train pulled into Sunnydale Station.

It had arrived a few minutes late, but when it pulled in, the doors didn't open to spill dozens of impatient passengers trying to get home. There were no voices asking each other about the cause of the delay. There was no light by which the stranded passengers could read to pass the time. There was no train attendant to get off and signal to the driver.

The driver had noticed it too. Curious, he leaned out of the engine's window and looked down the platform. He squinted intently and thought he noticed movement at one of the last doors on the train. As he watched, a woman with flowing hair and a long dress stepped out of the door.

He noticed something slightly awkward about her gait and saw she was holding what appeared to be a small doll. The woman came closer, until she had reached the small circle of light cast by the nearest lantern on the platform.

When he saw her face, he screamed.

**ɤɤɤ**

Angel had spent most of the afternoon walking the sewers of L.A., tracking down every contact he had managed to make in the city's demon underworld, and a few new ones. Even another extensive session with Merl had turned up nothing but curses on Angel and several generations of his ancestors.

Instinctively, Angel knew Darla was alive, and that somewhere close by, she was waiting for him. But for the time being, it seemed as though the earth had opened up and swallowed her whole.

He still worried about Dawn. Their searches had turned up nothing, and he knew that if Darla was out there and somehow connected to Dawn's disappearance, Buffy would hold him responsible for not speaking out sooner.

With a sigh, he turned back the way he had come.

**ɤɤɤ**

It had been hours since Buffy returned from the hospital, but she still found herself unable to shake the impression of her mother lying on the hospital bed, looking small and weak and very much mortal. She had promised herself that as soon as she got back to the Hyperion, she would go out again and do one more sweep of the neighborhood to see if she could track down Dawn, but she felt utterly exhausted, and the only thing she could get herself to do was go up to her room, lie on her bed and think.

Buffy had hated hospitals since she had watched the Kindestod kill her cousin at the children's ward, and seeing this renewed hospital stay sap her mother's strength definitely hadn't helped. Her mother's words notwithstanding, Buffy was convinced she wasn't ready to take charge of her life outside of her slayer duties. Especially not a life which involved a younger sister to take care of.

It took Buffy a second to register the quiet, tentative knock on her door.

"Come in."

Angel stuck his head into the room, looking sheepish.

"Hey. I… wanted to see if you were okay. I can come back later if you'd rather be alone."

Buffy considered turning him away, but she realized that to be alone was in fact the last thing she wanted at the moment.

"No… please, come in."

Angel approached and sat down on the bed, at a respectful distance from her.

"How are you feeling?"

"Sad, and scared, and confused. Did I mention scared?"

Angel looked at her questioningly, and what he saw in her eyes encouraged him to reach out for her. He moved closer and folded her up in his arms. He felt a wave of happiness and relief wash over him when he noticed she didn't try to pull away.

"What's wrong with me, Angel? I should be out there, looking for my sister. Finding a way to fight Glory. I'm just so… tired."

"Nothing's wrong with you. You're just taking a moment to regroup. That's all." He kissed her forehead.

"I'm so sorry, Buffy. All these things you've had to deal with – Dawn, Glory, your mother being sick… I should've been there for you. Instead, I …"

Buffy smiled sadly. "I'll forgive you if you promise me nothing bad is ever going to happen to us again."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Lie to me."

"Fine. Wolfram & Hart is going to see the error of its ways. Right now, Glory's deciding she'd rather have a career in show business than look for the Key. And Dawn is going to turn up on our doorstep any minute now."

Buffy smiled and pulled closer to Angel.

"Stay with me tonight?"

"Sure."

**ɤɤɤ**

"So let me get this straight. You want me to work some kind of demon voodoo to help you figure out if you are who you think you are?"

"That's it."

"Why?"

"I can't exactly tell you. All I want to know is if you can help me figure this thing out, or if you know someone who can."

"I don't even know your name."

"Dawn. That is, probably. I mean, that's what I'm trying to find out."

The young man smiled at her from under his hood. "You're kind of strange."

"Yeah, well… since we're doing names, you might as well tell me yours."

"Rieff."

"That's kind of a weird name."

"Yeah, and Dawns are a dime a dozen."

"Look, can you help me or not?"

"I can't, but I know a place."

They walked in silence for several minutes. Finally, curiosity got the better of Dawn. "So… are you from around here? I mean, hello, demon, so probably not, but…"

Rieff smiled. "No. My family was on the run from something called The Scourge for most of my life. They… killed a lot of us." He broke off. "In the end, we… we decided the only way to get away from them for good was to split up. So I came back here by myself."

"That's got to be lonely."

"It can be. I'm used to it."

They had arrived in a back alley. Dawn noticed a string of Chinese lanterns that gave it a pleasant red glow.

"It's down here." He stepped back and motioned for Dawn to go first. She smiled shyly to acknowledge the gesture, but didn't move.

"What is it?"

"It's a bar. And demon sanctuary. I help out with chores around the place sometimes for some extra cash. Guy who owns it is an empath demon. You sing and he reads you."

"Um… I'm not so sure that's going to work."

"Trust me… this guy's special."

**ɤɤɤ**

Spike looked around his crypt. Nearly every piece of furniture in it was thoroughly smashed to bits, but he still felt angry. The half-bottle of whiskey sloshing around inside him hadn't much helped either.

"What does a guy have to do? I work myself half to death saving the slayer and her friends' asses, and what do I get? She runs back to that poncy sod."

He kicked the sarcophagus at the center of the crypt in frustration, but regretted it almost instantly and bestowed it with the most colorful curses he could think of.

"Dear Spike… didn't your Mummy teach you proper manners?"

Spike whirled around and immediately lost his balance. He fell over and only narrowly avoided a nasty head wound from the hard edge of the sarcophagus.

"Dru? What're you doing here?"

"I came to see you in my hour of need."

She stepped forward, and Spike got a better look at her face. It was lined with angry red burn scars. Immediately, a protective instinct going back more than a century kicked in.

"Baby, what happened to you?"

"Angel. And the slayer."

Spike felt another wave of anger rise up inside him. "Try to kill my Dru, will they?"

"And her child, my dear Spike. Her grandmother child too."

**ɤɤɤ**

Dawn had focused all her energy on a heartfelt rendition of "My Heart Will Go On," but now that the last bars had faded, she felt nervous. She wasn't sure this had gone entirely well. The strange green demon in the dapper white suit was staring at her unabashedly, mouth slightly ajar.

"Jeepers, that's one hell of a story you have."

"What did you see?" Dawn asked eagerly.

"I… don't really know if I should be the one to tell you this."

"It's true, isn't it? I'm not really human?"

"Oh no, you are, honey. You're just kind of… new. About six months new, to be exact."

Dawn balled her fists in frustration. "Then how can I be human? Look at me! Do I look like I'm six months old?"

"What it is is this, dearie. You're as human as… well, none of us here at Caritas. But before you became human, you were something else. A kind of cosmic energy. And you still have some of that power in you. You have the power to open portals between dimensions."

For a moment, Dawn stood looking at the strange green demon silently. Then, she turned to Rieff, who had observed the whole conversation silently from a chair near the stage. Now, acting mostly on instinct, he walked up to Dawn and pulled her towards him.

The green demon watched thoughtfully as Dawn embraced Rieff and sobbed into his shoulder. When she emerged, he produced a tissue. "Dry your eyes, little girl. You have some mighty scary things after you, but if you stick by this guy and that big sister of yours, you'll be alright. Trust me on this."

**ɤɤɤ**

Buffy opened her eyes. The curtains were drawn, but she could make out Angel's back next to her. Tenderly, she traced the outline of his tattoo with the tip of her finger. As she did so, he stirred and turned around. A warm smile lit up his face.

"Good morning."

"Good morning."

He pulled her closer and kissed her. Soon, their kiss deepened and Buffy felt a burning heat rising up inside her. The voice at the back of her head warned her to stop, but every other part of her body ached for Angel's touch. She let the memories of their last encounter flood in – Angel's passionate kisses trailing down her throat, the desperate need for closeness written plainly on his face as he ran his hands up and down her body.

Buffy felt her breath coming faster and pulled up to Angel so that the entire length of their bodies touched. She could feel their intimacy affecting him as she pushed against him.

"Buffy, I… I want you so much, but you know we can't risk this again."

Buffy swallowed hard and forced herself to stop thinking about the naked body lying so close to her.

"Angel… about the other night. I was angry at you, but mostly I was angry at myself. I always do this."

Angel brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. "Do what?"

"I let myself forget… our history. Why this" she pointed demonstratively at both their bodies "can't ever happen."

At that moment, there was an urgent knock at the door and, not two seconds later, Cordelia stormed in.

"Buffy! You'll want to come downstairs and see… oh, God!"

Angel looked down at the sheets.

"Um… how about waiting for someone to say 'come in'?" he asked, hastily rearranging the covers.

"Well, how about you two don't get carnal when you think no one's looking? Angelus on the loose is the last thing we need right now."

"Look, we know. We were just about to… erm, get up anyway," Buffy threw in, then quickly changed the subject. "You said you wanted me to come see something?"

**ɤɤɤ**

When Buffy turned off the staircase and walked down into the lobby, the first thing she saw was Dawn.

"Oh my God!" She rushed towards her and pulled her into a fierce hug, then glared at her angrily. "What were you thinking, running away like that? We were worried half to death. Mom had to go back to the hospital and we had no idea how to find you!"

Dawn looked thoroughly chastened. "Mom's at the hospital again?"

Buffy's expression softened slightly.

"Yeah."

"Is it… is it my fault?"

"What? No, of course not. She had a hemorrhage – aftereffect of the surgery. She's doing much better already." Buffy remembered to look stern again. "She'll want to see you right away though. You had her worried too."

Dawn shifted uncomfortably. "It's just that I… I overheard some stuff. Stuff about me. I got kind of confused. I… I went to this guy who reads your aura when you sing for him. He… told me it was true. What you said about me."

Buffy's stern face collapsed for the second time. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way." She hesitated, then smiled encouragingly. "Dawn… no matter what else you are, you're definitely my sister. I couldn't possibly be this annoyed with you right now if you weren't."

Dawn returned the smile weakly, then remembered something. "Rieff?"

He stepped out of the shadow of a pillar close by the exit. "Over here. Hey Angel," he added, as Angel had just come down the staircase behind Buffy.

"Rieff. It's nice to see you," said Angel, looking slightly confused. "Do you need help?"

"No, I… I was just dropping off Dawn."

Buffy gave the young man with the green-grayish skin a probing look. "Thanks, but… who are you?"

Noticing Rieff looked uncomfortable, Angel jumped in. "He's an old friend. He knew Doyle."

"Oh." Buffy smiled encouragingly at Rieff. "Why don't you come in and have breakfast with us?"

Rieff looked as though he wanted to say no, but Dawn quickly jumped in. "Please stay."

Rieff gave her a shy smile. "Okay."

**ɤɤɤ**

A few hours later, Rieff had left, but only after promising Dawn he would meet her for a cup of coffee in a few days. Noticing Buffy still looked very tired, Cordelia had volunteered to take Dawn to the hospital to see Joyce.

Gunn and Wesley were off on a case, which left Angel and Buffy sitting around the kitchen table alone, trying to decide if they should talk about the events of earlier that day.

"That was pretty close this morning," Buffy finally started.

"Yeah. Too close."

"Angel, please don't take this the wrong way. I… I love you. Still, and probably always. But I just can't live like this. I'm going crazy not being able to get close to you."

Angel frowned at the table. "I know what you mean."

"Are you absolutely sure there isn't anything we can do? Maybe there's a way to… make this soul thing a little more permanent."

Angel sighed. "I've never told you this, but… after I left Sunnydale, I went looking for the Kalderash elders. I wanted to find the answer to that same question."

"Why didn't you tell me? What happened?"

"I didn't want to get your hopes up in case it didn't work out. And as it turned out, it didn't. They wouldn't even hear me out. I barely got away."

Buffy reached across the table and took his hand. "I'm sorry, Angel."

He hesitated. "There is… one more thing we could try. I could never quite get myself to do it because I knew it was the only chance I had left, and I wasn't sure how I'd take it if they told me no."

"What do you mean? If who told you no?"

"They're called the Oracles. They have a direct link to the Powers That Be. If anyone can help me, they can."

"Wait, I remember this. Aren't they dead?"

"They were killed by an underworld warrior, yeah. But they've been replaced by new Oracles. The Powers couldn't just let the phone lines go to voicemail I guess."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

"Buffy, we… we have a lot on our minds right now. We have to focus. There's Glory, and Dawn, and your Mom… and I think Darla's still alive."

"You what now?"

* * *

It's Rieff! I thought he was an interesting character with too little screen time – plus, having him in the picture gives Dawn more to do than shriek and freak out. And having a handsome young demon's shoulder to cry on definitely takes the edge off a bit when you find out you used to be a ball of cosmic energy. Also, Buffy and Angel trying to solve this curse issue! Why didn't they ever put more work into that in canon?


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_China, 1900_

Darla stared at the basket where, moments before, the baby had been. She had known Angelus would fail the test, but she had still hoped against hope. Perhaps, seeing the warmth and beauty of this baby could have reawakened something of his former taste for the destruction of life.

Instead, she thought, she had asked too much of him too quickly. Inwardly, she cursed herself. She knew now that there was no going back. She had been a fool to believe him when he promised he could be the same person he was before the curse.

From the next room, Spike and Drusilla's laughter rang out. They were still celebrating Spike's recent kill. A slayer. In the good old days, Angelus would have seen it as a challenge to come up with something better; a more creative, more difficult kill.

Slowly, Darla put on her cape and prepared to go out for another hunt. These, she thought bitterly, were the first steps of another lonely eternity.

**ɤɤɤ**

"And we can't just go get my Key… why?"

"Because it's a mistake to underestimate the slayer. We have to weaken her defenses before we strike."

"Look, I have to be honest here, I'm not really that worried about her. She may seem strong to an ordinary vampire, but I could squash her like a flea if I felt like it."

"It's not just about her strength. I hate her guts, but she's smart and she has friends. Even for a god, that should be a good reason for caution."

"What do you suggest?"

"We strike at her through the people she loves. Lower her morale, erode her support."

"Hmm. Look, I like to cause suffering as much as the next god, but this wouldn't be about punishing her for stealing your boyfriend, would it? I've got to be honest, I don't really care about your personal revenge fantasies."

Darla snarled in frustration. "Look, just trust me on this. You won't have to wait long."

**ɤɤɤ**

"What now? Who now?"

"Darla, Xander."

Xander seemed lost for words, but only for a moment.

"Okay, so I know you've been under a lot of stress lately, but Darla's dead, remember? Angel killed her and killed her good."

Giles, who had removed his glasses after the first time Buffy made her announcement, now polished them thoughtfully.

"How about we hear Buffy out, Xander?"

"Yeah, I for one can't wait to hear how that story ends," Willow added.

"First of all, she _was_dead. But then she wasn't. And then she was dead again, but not really."

Xander looked as though he wanted to start talking again, so Buffy added, somewhat peeved, "Look, it's not that hard. Wolfram & Hart brought her back as human, but Drusilla turned her into a vampire again. Angel was too late to prevent it, and now she might be on some sort of personal vendetta against him."

"Okay, but… why do we care?" Anya asked, frowning. Xander nodded in confirmation.

"Yeah, what she said."

"Well, word in L.A. is, she's joined up with some seriously big player in the demon world. Add that to the fact that Darla knows her way around the Hyperion and has enhanced vampire hearing, and my money's on Glory."

Giles stopped polishing his glasses. "If you're right, things look very bad for us."

Willow frowned. "Look, I know this is serious apocalypse stuff, but there's one more question I have. You don't see Angel in months, then suddenly you go to see him twice in two weeks. Now you're back for exactly one day to catch us up, and then you're heading to L.A. again. I know keeping Dawn and Joyce safe is the priority, but you have stuff to do here too. As far as we know, Glory could show up on our doorstep anytime, and Joyce and Dawn aren't the only ones wearing a big, fat bullseye. What's going on, Buffy?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Xander threw in. "Something tells me this has to do with Angel."

"Look, Angel and I…" Buffy shifted uncomfortably. "Okay, before you say anything else, Angel and I knew it was safe."

Xander huffed. "Wait a minute! You slept with Angel? How is that ever safe?"

"Well, you should have seen him," Buffy said defensively. "He was absolutely desperate."

"Desperate to get in your pants. I bet."

"Xander!" Willow frowned at him angrily. "Keep going, Buffy."

"He was desperate about this whole thing with Darla. The way he looked, it… it was pretty clear perfect happiness wasn't exactly an option. And we agreed to take… precautions afterwards, in case something went wrong. I know that doesn't make it okay, but…"

Giles broke in. "Look, let's have this conversation later and get back to the matter of this possible alliance. Buffy, this is serious business."

"Look, we still don't know any of this is happening for sure, and we're not finished having the other conversation," Xander said angrily. "How could you take that kind of a risk?"

Before Buffy could respond, the door of the shop flew open and Angel walked in, a big grin on his face.

Anya moved a little closer to Xander. "Does anyone else think he's looking much too happy?"

"Hey guys," Angel said, uncharacteristically cheerfully. "Buffy, can I talk to you for a minute? In private?"

**ɤɤɤ**

Buffy took a seat on the bench at the edge of the shop's training room. Angel sat down next to her and took her hand.  
"How's it going?"

"Just fine. Not that I'm not pleased to see you, but did you drive all the way from L.A. just to ask me that? And who's watching Dawn if we're both here?"

"Dawn's staying at Gunn's apartment for the night. If anyone can keep her safe, it's him. I'd trust him with my life." He smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry… Cordelia's over there too and they're having some kind of female bonding night. She's not running away again anytime soon."

Buffy frowned, but continued. "Okay, but… why _did_ you come?"

Angel grinned happily. "I didn't want to get your hopes up before, but I decided to go see the Oracles after you left." His smile widened.

Buffy felt a strange mixture of nausea and excitement wash over her. "And?"

"And they said they couldn't change the nature of the curse."

Buffy's face fell.

"But they could see that something would happen to change it."

"But we already knew that. We know about the Shanshu Prophecy."

"I'm pretty sure the Shanshu isn't a 'next week' kind of deal. They said this big change would happen soon."

"How soon?"

"Within the next year."

"Angel, how do we know?"

Angel's face fell slightly. "What do you mean?"

"How do we know this is reliable? Prophecies can be changed – we've both done it more than once. And even if this change does happen, how do we know it's a good thing?" She looked at him pleadingly. "I mean – _you're_ usually tread-cautiously guy."

"I don't know, I just… I thought…" Angel frowned. "I thought you'd be happy to hear about this."

"I am! Happy me, right here. It's just that I don't want us to get our hopes up and then be disappointed again."

"I understand." Angel got up and turned to go. "I should leave. It's a long drive back to L.A."

"Angel, wait…"

But the back door of the training room had already closed behind Angel.

Frustrated and unwilling to continue the argument with her friends, Buffy followed him outside and turned her steps towards Revello Drive.

**ɤɤɤ**

Joyce tried to get comfortable for what seemed like the twentieth time that night. She had slept off the effects of the anesthesia, and now that it was dark and she was supposed to sleep, sleep wouldn't come.

She felt a dull ache at the back of her head, but it stayed beneath the surface – not bad enough that she thought she needed more pain killers.

For the past hour, the hospital had gradually quieted down. All the visitors had long gone home, the patients had settled down to sleep, and the night nurse had probably set up shop by now at the desk down the hall.

It may have been that after-hours quiet which allowed Joyce to hear what she did. It was the smallest possible cry – barely even a gasp. Joyce thought it came from down the corridor – approximately where the nurse's desk must be.

Joyce tensed up – she had rarely accompanied Buffy on her patrols, but her knowledge of what her daughter faced had nevertheless imbued her with a more acute sense of danger.

She considered for a second whether she should try to get out of bed and find a less vulnerable position. But before she could act on this impulse, someone had entered the room.

Joyce's eyes widened in recognition.

"Hello again, Mrs. Summers."

* * *

MUAHAHAHAHA! To be honest, I wanted Joyce to live. I really did. I just couldn't figure out anything constructive to do with her. And it does make sense for Darla to want to deal Buffy an emotional blow before confronting her, given her history of not doing so well in direct confrontations with Buffy.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_Connecticut, 1995_

The beautiful green Victorian had changed sadly since Darla had last seen it, but its situation was just as she remembered: It was set in the middle of a beautiful meadow, with a view of rolling hills far into the distance.

Its sunny location made it an odd choice of living quarters for a vampire, but the beautiful view of the surrounding area was what had endeared it to Darla when she first laid eyes on it in 1888. It had been a turbulent time – William had only recently joined their family and had started to cultivate the name "Spike." His reckless behavior and lack of talent for disguise had gotten them all chased out of London by an angry mob, and Darla and Angelus had decided to separate from Spike and Drusilla for a time.

It seemed the perfect opportunity to show Angelus the country where she had spent much of her mortal life. He had never before been to America, and she herself hadn't visited it since the Master had sired her at the Virginia Colony in 1607.

She had fallen in love with the house at first sight, and it turned out to be perfect for them. It was where they had been happiest. There were heavy brocade curtains that could be used to cover the windows during the daytime, and the house was adjacent to a cross-country road, where lonely travelers often passed at night.

During their stay there, the house had acquired a reputation for being haunted, and it had stood empty for most of the ensuing century.

It was appropriate, Darla thought, that her long search for Angelus had finally brought her here. A seemingly endless series of false leads and sightings had led her on a restless hunt across the globe. Angelus was still a famous face among demons, but he knew how not to be found.

Until now.

**ɤɤɤ**

"So… where do you think they went?" For a while now, Tara had felt compelled to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over the group ever since they left the Magic Box.

"Three guesses," Xander said bitterly. "It's like nothing of what we said got through. And here we still are, patrolling. Trying to cover for her." He aimed a frustrated kick at the gates of Green Meadow Cemetery as they walked in.

"Now, don't just assume the worst. They might have just wanted someplace quieter to talk," Willow suggested.

"Talk? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

Anya screwed up her face thoughtfully. "I never even met this Angelus guy, but I have to say, he had a reputation even among us vengeance demons. In fact, he was on my blacklist."

"What does that mean?"

"I'd help any woman who asked for it – except when one of a handful of men were involved. Angelus was one of them. More trouble than I thought I could handle."

"See? And that's the guy Buffy's toying with bringing back. And let's not forget how things went for us the last time he was in town."

"Look, we might not know the whole picture here. There might be…"

Willow stopped talking and looked at Tara, who had frozen and held out a hand for the others to stop as well. Now, they were hearing it too. Two familiar voices, making their way towards them. Quickly, they ducked into the shadow of a nearby crypt.

"So what happened to Darla, pet? Last I heard, you two were living the high life together, painting the streets of L.A. red."

"Her heart was too full."

"Look, Dru, if you want me to get the picture, you'll have to be a little more specific."

"She's gone to help look for the Key. She thinks if she can watch Angelus and his slayer burn, it will quiet the little voices in her chest."

"Picture not getting any clearer, honey." Then, something clicked. "Wait a minute. You mean she's gone to join forces with that Glory chick?"

"How right you are, dear Spike."

"What's their plan?" Spike asked, looking thoughtful.

Drusilla giggled. "To weaken the slayer. Strike where it hurts most. My child knows how to reach a woman's heart."

**ɤɤɤ**

As soon as Spike and Drusilla had gone, Xander stepped out into the moonlight, looking determined.

"We have to find her. Right now."

"Where could they have gone?"

"I don't know. Her house is as good a place to start as any."

It took them less than ten minutes to reach Revello Drive. Xander peered in at the window.

"I'd say we've hit the jackpot," he said drily, pointing at the soft light emanating from Buffy's bedroom.

Willow frowned. "Xander, don't you think you're making a bit fast with the conclusions here?"

"Shhh. If Angelus is in there, we don't want him being able to hear us from a mile away." Cautiously, Xander opened the unlocked front door and tiptoed across the threshold, followed by the others. "Now let's just – GAH!"

Xander regained his balance just in time. Looking down, he noticed that what he had nearly fallen over was Buffy, sitting on the floor of the dining room.

"Buffy! You're here! And you're wearing clothes. Thank God. Where's…"

"Xander," said Tara quietly. She had noticed the way Buffy was holding limply onto a phone that still emitted a faint dial tone.

"You're right, never mind that now," Xander went on. "Drusilla's back in town! And what's worse, she's with Spike. And what's even worse, we overheard them talking about how Darla's joined forces with Glory. They're planning some kind of big strike against you. We should track them down and…"

"It's too late." Buffy's voice seemed to reach them as if through a fog. "It won't help."

She looked up from the phone and focused on Xander. "My mom's dead."

* * *

Remember what the Oracles told Angel. It'll become important in the sequel.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_The Gall'uth Dimension, Year 18 after the Deliverance_

It was the same dream Stephen had had many times before. He was standing in the middle of a field, looking up at a green house in the middle distance. Just in front of him, there were two people, their backs turned towards him. One was a woman, small, delicate and blonde. The other was a man, tall, with broad shoulders and dark brown hair. He had seen them both many times in other dreams, and he knew exactly what came next in this one.

"You can't be out here! It's the middle of the day. You'll die."

"Let me come with you."

Suddenly, the man vanished, and Stephen stood holding the woman's hand.

"Who are you?"

Stephen thought about this, and realized he didn't know the answer. "That's a complicated question."

**ɤɤɤ**

There were voices. Buffy wasn't sure if she was hearing or remembering them. Before her eyes, bizarre, unfamiliar objects seemed to be arranged in a seemingly random order. She knew that, in some other life, a long time ago, these objects had meant home, comfort.

No such thing anymore.

She thought she might have vomited. Maybe a minute ago, maybe an hour. It was hard to tell. In any case, she was still conscious of an unpleasant, metallic taste in her mouth.

She felt someone press a cup of tea into her hand. It felt too hot. She put it down.

Somehow, she had to pull herself together. She knew that. Sitting here forever and staring into space wasn't an option. She'd have to tell Dawn.

Concentrating hard, she tried to piece together what she could remember of the phone call. Sudden deterioration. Severe neck trauma. Cause unknown. Nothing we could do. I'm very sorry, Ms. Summers.

It took Buffy a few hours to become anything like aware of her surroundings again. She noticed vaguely that Angel had come back. He had walked her up to her room and put her to bed, but then everything became a blur again.

She didn't realize she'd managed to fall asleep, but when she opened her eyes, she saw Willow sitting next to her, holding her hand.

"Hey. How are you feeling?" Immediately, Willow added: "Sorry, that's a stupid question. I mean, how would you be feeling? Still, though, are you…"

Buffy squeezed her friend's hand. "Better." She looked around. "Where's Angel?"

"You know, I could bring you some soup and…"

"Willow. Where's Angel?"

She sighed. "He's gone to find Spike and Drusilla."

**ɤɤɤ**

The festive tones of the Emperor Waltz by Strauss swept through the abandoned mansion. Drusilla laughed giddily as Spike swept her across the floor, spinning her around at a dizzying pace.

"Dru, I haven't felt this good since that night we ate the homeless guy together. Remember how he begged for mercy?"

"It was a night to remember, dear Spike."

"Lately, I've been miserable all the bloody time. It's this bloody chip, making me crazy about the slayer. When happiness was mine to have with you all this time."

She giggled again, let go of Spike and kept spinning by herself, faster and faster.

If it weren't for the music, she might have heard Angel before she saw him.

As it was, he had her pinned against the wall before the last notes of the waltz faded.

"Where's Darla?"

Drusilla smiled wickedly.

"Mummy's gone to play with someone else."

Angel growled. "Dru, I don't have time for your games. I came here for information and I'll get it one way or the other. I'm a little rusty on torture, but I…. Stay where you are!"

Keeping one hand against Drusilla's throat, Angel whirled around to face Spike, pointing a sharp, glinting ax in his direction. Casually, Spike showed him the cigarette he had just pulled out of his coat and lit it.

"You know what your problem is, ponce?" He dragged on his cigarette, slowly, deeply. "You came here without a plan. Just you, and two of us. You can't win that fight, and you know it."

"He doesn't have to." A very pale Buffy stepped out of the courtyard and into the mansion. She smiled bitterly. "Whatever happened to joining the Scoobies? Secret meetings with evil vampire exes are kind of a no-no on that application form."

"Look, slayer, you couldn't expect me to be treated like the scum of the earth by you and your gang every sodding day and still be your faithful lapdog."

While Spike spoke, Drusilla looked at him shrewdly. "I don't think you mean it, dear Spike."

Spike scowled at her. "Quiet now, Dru."

"My mother died today, Spike." Buffy's voice had a hard edge of barely suppressed rage and grief to it. "You wouldn't know anything about that, now would you?"

She suddenly felt very sick again. The torrent of anger that had brought her here was starting to fade, and she very much wished she could go back to sleep. She looked at Angel for reassurance. As his face transformed back into human features, she saw that the sadness and anger in his eyes mirrored hers.

Suddenly, it occurred to her that Spike had been silent all this time. When she looked back at him, she was surprised to see sadness on his face as well.

"Joyce is dead?" He dropped his cigarette and extinguished it with the top of his boot. "I'm sorry."

He shot a brief glance at Drusilla, then made up his mind. "If I had to guess, I'd say Darla's involved. She's joined up with Glory because she thinks it's the most effective way to get at you and Angel. They're somewhere in L.A. That's all either of us knows. You can take my word for it."

Angel snorted. "Why should we?"

"Because I liked Joyce. She was a classy lady. Only one of the whole bunch of you that treated me decently."

Buffy looked at Spike for a long time, until he looked away. She nodded slowly, walked over to Angel and took his hand, which was still grasping Drusilla's throat.

"Let's go outside. Let the others know we don't need backup after all."

**ɤɤɤ**

The mood was uncomfortably quiet at Revello Drive that night. It had been decided that Buffy should return to Los Angeles the next day to retrieve Joyce's body. Angel would follow after dark to pick up Dawn and bring her back to Sunnydale for the funeral.

Once those arrangements had been discussed, everyone fell silent, trying to think of some topic of conversation that would distract them for a little while.

Shortly after nightfall, everyone went home or upstairs to sleep, but Angel and Giles stayed awake for no particular reason either of them could put into words.

Around nine, there was a knock on the door. Angel opened it to find a young man in scrubs, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Ah… hi. My name's Ben. I'm so sorry to bother you. I… work at the hospital. We got a call from Good Samaritan in L.A. about… Joyce Summers. How she'd be transferred to… Look, I just came to say I'm sorry. And to see if there was anything I could do." Ben squinted at Angel uncomfortably. "Sorry, but… who are you? Is Buffy home?"

"I'm a friend," Angel said curtly. "Buffy's resting. You'll have to come back some other time."

Recognizing defeat, Ben nodded and turned on his heel. "No problem. Tell her… tell her I'm sorry, would you?"

"Sure."

Angel closed the door and turned to find Giles standing behind him.

"Giles, what do you know about this guy?"

"Not much. He's an intern at the hospital. We met him a few times when… when Joyce had her surgery."

"Look, there's something I don't like about him. I can usually figure out if someone's human or demon at first sight, but he has all kinds of feedback coming off him. I've never met anyone like him."

"You mean he might not be human?"

"No, he is. But not in the ordinary way. Not like Dawn either – she was concealed with very powerful magic, and I never noticed it until I already knew what she was. Whoever made him either has too much power to hide it easily, or just did kind of a rush job on him."

"You're certain of this, Angel?"

"Giles, I couldn't help noticing it. It was practically screaming at me."

"What do you think it means?"

"I don't know… he felt sort of hollow, if that makes sense. Like he was there to hide something else."

"I'll do some research. Once the… the funeral is over, we should keep an eye on him. I have a feeling his being in Sunnydale at the moment is not a coincidence."

* * *

In season 5 of Buffy, Spike was the only one who was able to remember that Ben and Glory were the same person. I figured that Angel, being more experienced in terms of magicks, and also a little less self-absorbed, might actually be able to see there's something wrong with Ben to begin with. But will it make a difference in the fight against Glory? Let's find out.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_New York, 1995_

Darla barely recognized him the first time she saw him. Her beautiful boy, sunk low enough to sleep in alleys and feed off vermin.

A century's worth of rat blood and depression had made him thin. But that wasn't the worst of it – he was covered in layers of dirt from head to toe. Her Angelus, who had always been so particular about his baths. Always so proud of his handsome appearance.

She felt angry and betrayed. This was the life he had chosen over the beautiful, glamorous years they had had together? Surely, no qualms of conscience could be worth giving up their life if the alternative was this.

So far, she had not let Angelus see her. She knew that if they met, she would try to kill him, and he might not have the strength to fight her off this time.

She had been lonely for a long time now. Lonely enough to forget a lesson she had learned the hard way nearly a century ago in China: He could never be the same person he had been before the curse.

**ɤɤɤ**

"Dawn? Dawny?"

Cordelia had taken Dawn back to the Hyperion to wait for Angel's arrival. Immediately, Dawn had stormed up to her room. That had been a couple of hours ago, and Cordelia was starting to get worried.

"Please tell me you haven't run away again," she whispered to herself as she opened the door and peered into the room.

Dawn was sitting on the window seat, knees drawn up to her chin, looking out at the city.

"Dawny, do you want anything? I could… I don't know, make some tea. I'm not the best cook in the world, but tea I can do."

"No thanks. I'm good."

Cordelia walked up carefully and sat down next to Dawn. "I know this must be terrible for you. If you need…"

"But you don't know, do you? You still have both your parents."

"Yeah… you're right. But I _have_ lost people I cared about." Cordelia ran a hand through Dawn's hair and smiled encouragingly. "You know Doyle, Rieff's friend? I was in love with him when he died."

"Oh." Dawn turned her attention back to the window, but suddenly she looked at Cordelia, her face lighting up. "Then you'll understand. You'll help me."

"Help you with what?"

"I'm going to bring my mom back to life. I think I can do it. Willow's been showing me some stuff. Magicks stuff. I just need to find the right book and the ingredients."

"Look, Dawn… I understand you're hurting but…"

Dawn frowned angrily. "So what? You're not going to help me? Fine. I can do it by myself."

"I understand what you're trying to do. I do. But believe me when I tell you, I tried to fix my problems with magic once, and it got me killed and almost everyone else I knew."

"What?"

"Oh, it was a whole thing. I made a wish, there was a parallel dimension… but that's not the point. The point is that everything comes at a price. And the thing you wish for most in the whole world comes at the biggest price. You might make this work, you might get your mother back. But she might not be your mother anymore. She might be something else… like, wrong."

They sat in silence for a while. Finally, Dawn said, "Would you tell me that story about the parallel dimension?"

"Sure. I'll get us some tea. Then, should I see if Rieff wants to come see you before you go back to Sunnydale?"

"Please."

**ɤɤɤ**

The funeral took place three days later, on a small patch of ground near a belt of trees surrounding one of Sunnydale's many cemeteries.

With some reluctance, the cemetery and minister had acquiesced to the family's odd request of having the burial performed after dark. Buffy had had some misgivings about possible disruptions, but that prospect scared her less than the possibility of going through the ceremony without Angel's support.

The plan had also pleased Dawn, who had insisted Rieff come along. With some reluctance, Rieff had agreed on the condition that he could stay hidden during the day.

After the ceremony had ended, Buffy and Angel decided to stay at the graveside a little while longer while the others took Dawn back to Revello Drive.

They had found a place to sit in the shade of a nearby tree.

Buffy rested her head on Angel's chest and looked at the small, modest headstone. "That was… brutal. But it's tomorrow I'm worried about."

"What happens tomorrow?"

"That's just it. I don't know. More than anything, I want to find Darla and make her pay for what she did. Her and Glory."

"And we will. But we can't just rush in. We're not ready to fight Glory. We need a plan."

She looked up at him. "I hate it when you're right."

**ɤɤɤ**

Rieff had held Dawn's hand throughout the funeral, and he was still holding it now that they were walking up the driveway of her home. They were followed, at a respectful distance, by Xander, Anya, Willow, Tara and Giles. Buffy and Angel had stayed behind at the graveside.

Much to everyone's chagrin, they had been unable to contact Hank Summers, making Joyce's funeral an even smaller one than expected.

When Dawn and Rieff reached the front door, they stopped short. The door was open. They waited for the others to draw up, but before they could decide on a plan, a petite young woman with curly hair stepped out of the doorway.

"I just want you to know how incredibly annoying you've been. Making me look for the Key, which is mine by rights, chasing me all the way to L.A. and back again… it's just, you know, not cool."

They had all frozen for a second, but now Rieff and Xander moved to stand in front of Dawn.

Glory smirked. "Oh, that's rich. You think you can protect her from me? Well, let me show you something."

She grabbed Rieff by the throat and hurled him through the window into the living room. Before Xander could react, she had grabbed him too and thrown him down the stairs onto the front lawn. Giles and Anya had run around and come in through the back door, but Glory saw them before they had a chance to make their move. She punched Giles, sending him staggering back, and shoved Anya roughly so her back hit the stairs with stunning force.

Terrified, Willow mustered all her energy for a counter spell, but she felt drained after the events of the last few days and before she was ready for her, Glory had thrown her at the porch railing.

"Run, Dawn! Run!" she screamed.

But it was too late. Glory had already grabbed hold of Dawn and Tara. In an instant, they were gone.

**ɤɤɤ**

"But dear Spike, why can't we stay?"

"Because I don't want any part of this." Spike was busy throwing any remaining furnishings he hadn't broken into a big, old-fashioned trunk. "We're getting out of town."

Drusilla stamped her foot petulantly. "But Spike, there will be such fun. Death and destruction and messes."

"And you know I'm all for that, but this I can't do. If I'd known the plan was to kill the slayer's mother, I'd have done something to stop it."

Drusilla looked at him shrewdly. "Why?"

"I said. I thought she was decent. I liked her. She didn't deserve to die because Darla can't get over the great and mighty Angel."

"You may do as you like. I'll stay and watch."

Spike paused thoughtfully over a heavy vase he had stolen a few months ago. "Somehow, I don't believe you'll just be watching." He turned around and smashed the vase over Drusilla's head. As she sank down, he caught her and laid her down on the floor. "Sorry to do this again, pet. But this is one last thing I can do for the slayer. Make sure she has one less enemy to face."

* * *

A little callback there to "Becoming, Part 2" – Spike knocks out Drusilla before the big fight. Also, I thought "Zombie Joyce" would be too much of a distraction now that we're heading towards the final battle. Hopefully, Rieff's comforting presence and Cordelia's cautionary tale would be enough to dissuade Dawn from trying to bring her mother back.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_Sunnydale, 1997_

Darla felt practically giddy. The Master had allowed her to finish off the slayer herself. Where the Three had failed, she would succeed.

What was more, she would bring Angelus back to the fold. After nearly a century apart, they would reign together in the Master's court.

Darla had the plan all worked out in her mind. She had seen Angel running from the slayer's house the night before, and she felt confident it could mean only one thing: The slayer had discovered his true nature.

She knew Angelus wouldn't have taken it well. He despised his vampire self, and if she knew him at all, he would be at his apartment alone, brooding. All he needed was a push in the right direction. Darla knew that if she played her cards right, the slayer would be history before sunrise.

**ɤɤɤ**

When Dawn woke up, it took her a while to piece together what had happened. Her mother. The funeral. Glory.

Anxious, she looked around for Tara, and finally found her lying on a couch nearby. Dawn could tell that they were in a handsomely furnished, roomy apartment, but it was still dark outside the window, so it was hard to tell where the apartment might be.

Anyway, there was no time to decide that question, Dawn thought. She moved over to Tara and nudged her, first gently and then more insistently. Finally, she stirred.

"Wha-"

"Tara! Wake up!" Dawn whispered. "That Glory chick took us somewhere. I'm not sure where, but we have to get out."

"Not leaving already, are you?"

Dawn spun around to find Glory leaning nonchalantly in the doorway, filing her nails. "I have big plans for you two. Well, one of you anyway. The other one's just here for a snack."

Tara put her arms around Dawn protectively. "You'll never get to her. Buffy's going to come and…"

"Oh yeah, your precious slayer. Don't worry, I have a surprise guest that'll keep her and her vampire boy toy nice and busy."

Glory smiled a dazzling smile, but it was gone in a flash. Suddenly, she stamped her foot in frustration. "Not now! Not NOW!" There was a brief flash. Tara could have sworn she had seen Glory's face changing into a different face for an instant – a face that had seemed vaguely familiar.

"MINION!"

Within an instant, a shaking, scabby demon in tattered brown robes appeared at the threshold of the living room. "How may I serve you, oh Most Fantastically Shiny One?"

"You may remove _this_," she jabbed her finger vaguely in Dawn's direction. "Take my Key to the construction site. Do it now!"

Glory yanked Dawn out of Tara's arms and thrust her at the minion, who pinned Dawn's arms to her sides before she could so much as put up a fight. "Now GO!"

Glory snarled in frustration, and a second later, a very confused Ben stood in her place, looking extremely peculiar in Glory's figure-hugging red dress.

He blinked confusedly, then his eyes fell on Tara. "I'm guessing you're not here voluntarily?"

Tara shook her head. "Where did you come from?"

"Never mind that now. Just get out while you can."

**ɤɤɤ**

Buffy looked around. She was back in the lobby of the Hyperion, or someplace very much like it.

With the strange clarity of a dream remembered within a dream, she thought of the bizarre, frightening woman she had seen here before. Now, there was no trace of her.

And yet, she knew she wasn't alone. A shadow slunk along the walls, moving quickly and nimbly, and with a force that suggested a bright fire burning within the darkness.

Buffy frowned. "Look, I know you're there. What do you want?" When she received no response, Buffy added, "I stopped you hurting my friends once, and I'll do it again. So if you have something to tell me, just come out and say it."

She stared hard at the last place on the wall where she had seen the moving shadow. The darkness solidified and gave shape to a thin young woman with coarse features and eyes that burned with anger and pain. Buffy's face showed no surprise. She had sensed her presence long before she had seen her. The First Slayer.

"Well?"

The First Slayer beckoned for Buffy to follow her. Together, they ascended the stairs from the Hyperion's lobby, except they were no longer ordinary indoor stairs. They wound around and around and up into the sky, as though they were ascending a tall tower.

After what seemed an eternity, they arrived at the top – a metal platform that protruded like an outstretched hand, waiting for something to come out of the black void beyond and reach for it.

Buffy felt strangely drawn to the end of that platform. She knew something very important must wait there for her.

But before she could go any further, she heard someone calling her name. Surprised, she turned around. The First Slayer had gone, and in her place there sat the young boy Buffy remembered from her previous dreams. Just as it had before, a thick curtain of dark brown hair framed his face.

For the first time, she looked at his face more closely. Those eyes. She'd know them anywhere. They were Angel's eyes. She couldn't believe she hadn't realized it sooner.

There could be only one explanation: This was Angel as a boy, before he was turned. The First Slayer had led her here so she could hear an important message about Angel.

"What is it, honey? What do you have to tell me?"

He looked at her sadly. "If you want to save Dawn, you have to give me up."

Buffy felt as though someone had placed a great weight on her chest. "No." She shook her head violently. "No. No. No. No. No. I can't do it. I can't lose you again. There has to be another way."

"That's all I know. I can't tell you anything else. You have to give me up if you want to save Dawn. And now you'd better wake up. It's time."

When Buffy came to, she found she was still lying in Angel's arms, under the tree next to her mother's grave.

She met his eyes and wondered for a brief moment if he had shared her dream. But then she realized that a vampire, even a champion, would not have been admitted to the presence of the First Slayer.

She kissed Angel gently, then got up. "Come on. We have to find the others."

**ɤɤɤ**

As soon as they approached the house, they could tell something was wrong. The front door was standing wide open and only one small sliver of light could be seen from the direction of the kitchen.

Starting to panic, Buffy quickened her step, but Angel pulled her back.

"Careful. We don't know what's in there. I'll take the front entrance, you take the back. Slowly."

Buffy nodded almost imperceptibly. She ducked low and made her way around the side of the house. When she reached the back door, she peered around it carefully. Inside, she saw Rieff, Giles and Spike sitting at the kitchen counter over a pot of tea. They were speaking in low, urgent voices. Giles looked years older than he had just a few days ago.

Buffy straightened up and went inside.

"Giles, what's going on? Where is everyone? And what the hell's Spike doing here?"

Giles looked at her wearily. "I'm sorry, Buffy. Glory was waiting for us. Xander took Willow and Anya to the hospital. They were injured, but they'll be alright. But the worst is… she took Dawn. And Tara."

Buffy felt as though the weight of the world were pressing down on her. She decided not to dwell on the feeling.

"What are we waiting for? We have to find them. She could already be hurting them."

"She won't hurt Dawn. Not yet." Giles motioned to the next room. "Spike brought us something."

At that moment, Angel stepped into the kitchen. "Who's the old guy tied to that chair in the living room?"

**ɤɤɤ**

"His name's Doc." Spike stood behind the old man, holding a knife and some pliers. "Real cool customer. He's the bloke I go to whenever I need to know what's going on with the seedy underbelly of this magical world we live in. He knows dark magic stuff like the back of his hand."

Spike looked around at Angel, Buffy, Rieff and Giles, who had assembled behind him in the dining room. "I figured I'd stop in and see what he knew. Parting gift before I get the hell out of here."

Angel huffed. Spike frowned, but went on. "Anyhow, he was going on about how there was nothing we could do against Glory, except maybe talk to some friend of a friend in China. All the while, I noticed he was keeping a careful eye on this." He pointed to a small wooden box now sitting on Buffy's kitchen counter.

"It contains a description of the ritual," Giles said. "The ritual Glory will use to open the portal. I'll explain later, but… she needs Dawn whole and healthy to do it. And she has to get it done within the next few hours."

"Yeah… turns out old Doc is a fan boy of Glory's." Spike grinned fiendishly. "And what's more, he's not human. So anyone needs some more information Doc here might not be inclined to give, I'd be happy to oblige."

Angel stepped forward. "There's a man, name of Ben. He works at the hospital. He's hiding someone. Who is it?"

Buffy gave Angel a confused look. Doc chuckled quietly.

"Do you really think it matters what harm you threaten me with? The splendid Glorificus will rise, and my place will be in her kingdom. Mere death is a small matter to someone of her power. You can do nothing to stop her _or_the vessel."

Angel smiled triumphantly. "The vessel. That would be Ben?"

Doc snarled angrily. A long, thin tongue shot out of his mouth and wrapped itself around Angel's throat.

"I think we can take that as a 'yes,'" Giles said drily.

Spike chuckled darkly. "Oh dear… forgot to mention he does that tongue thing, didn't I?"

Buffy glared at Spike. "You're lucky Angel doesn't need to breathe." She reached behind her into a wooden chest and pulled out a sword. She tossed it to Angel, who severed Doc's tongue in one swift movement.

Spike frowned. "That's so typical. What a stupid thing to do. Now how's he supposed to tell us anything?"

Angel felt his throat gingerly. "He's already told us something very important. Ben is Glory's vessel. He's what keeps her tied to this world. If she steps through that portal, it'll be like he never existed. And if we can get her to turn into Ben, it's our best shot at beating her." Angel lifted up the sword and looked down at Doc, who was holding his mouth and glaring furiously. "We don't need him anymore."

A mere second later, Doc's head fell to the floor with a sickening thud.

**ɤɤɤ**

Doc's head had barely finished spinning when a voice came from the doorframe, making everyone jump simultaneously.

"Hey guys. I think I know where she took Dawny. There's a lot of confused people outside, and they kept talking about going to a construction site and…"

But the rest of Tara's sentence was lost in an enormous group hug.

* * *

OK, so you've probably figured out it wasn't Angel in that dream. Which means Buffy is probably misinterpreting the dream's message, and some major consequences are headed her way. Also, Doc's out of the running for the showdown!


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_The Gall'uth Dimension, Year 19 after the Deliverance_

For several weeks, Stephen had noticed a shadowy figure in his dreams. For some reason he could not explain to himself, he didn't feel threatened by it – merely intrigued. It seemed to sit quietly, just beyond the edge of his vision, and watch as he relived the battles of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of demon slayers one by one.

But tonight was different. He was watching a young girl in a brightly colored outfit, her long blonde hair falling almost to her waist. She seemed wildly out of place in a cemetery, yet here she was, her eyes wide with fear, as she tried to kill the vampire who was attacking her. Stephen sensed that this was the first time she had encountered a vampire. The girl's first attempt at staking the vampire was unsuccessful, but on the second try, she hit the creature's heart, and watched as it exploded into dust.

As the scene of the dream dissolved, Stephen heard a voice. It seemed to come from inside his own head, but he knew it was the voice of the thing at the edge of his vision. Suddenly, it was not a thing anymore. He could see it clearly – a wild-looking girl with coarse features and strange, burning eyes.

The voice spoke again, and this time, he could understand it clearly: "I have come to tell you that the time is nearly at hand, Connor."

"What do you mean? The time for what?" With mild interest, Stephen noticed that he was speaking without moving his lips. "And who's Connor?"

"It was to have been your name. In the dimension which would have been your home, if not for the abomination Glorificus."

"How do you know?"

"I am privy to all information about you. You are the son of a slayer, and you are part of the slayer line yourself."

"It's her, isn't it? The girl I just saw. I've seen her in other dreams. Dreams that were… different from the slayer memory ones. She's my mother?"

"Yes. And the time is approaching when she will need your help."

**ɤɤɤ**

For several hours, they gathered the strongest weapons they could lay their hands on. Willow and Anya went to the Magic Box to retrieve Olaf the Troll's hammer – a God's weapon to defeat God. Or, if not defeat her, at least delay her until the time to perform the ritual had passed.

Buffy, Angel, Rieff and Spike busied themselves compiling the arsenal stored in Buffy's basement.

"I thought you were taking off with Drusilla."

"So did I. But frankly, slayer, I never back out of a good fight. And that's what this is shaping up to be."

Angel huffed. "That's great. Who's watching Drusilla? The last thing we need is her showing up and joining forces with Darla and Glory."

"Don't worry about her. I've got her locked up back at the old crypt, safe and sound."

Buffy paused in her frantic search for the Byzantine ax she knew must be around somewhere. "Spike, I need you to be sure about this."

Spike looked at her earnestly. "I'm sure. She's not getting out."

Finally, Buffy spotted the ax behind a box containing her elementary school artworks.

"That's it. Let's do this."

**ɤɤɤ**

Finding the construction site proved easier than expected. A steady stream of confused, mumbling people continued to trudge through the streets, all drawn by the same irresistible impulse. In less than 15 minutes, Buffy, Angel, Spike, Willow, Rieff and Giles had arrived. Xander was mysteriously absent, and Tara, being the group's least experienced fighter, had promised to go to Spike's crypt and give warning if Drusilla showed signs of trying to escape.

Silently, they took up positions around the site. The plan was for Buffy, Spike and Angel to engage Glory and keep her busy, while Rieff and Giles would try to retrieve Dawn. Meanwhile, Willow would find high ground to communicate telepathically with the rest of the group.

When they were all ready, Buffy screamed at the top of her lungs: "Glory! I'm here! Come out and play!"

They didn't have long to wait.

**ɤɤɤ**

At the top of the tower, Dawn was trembling with cold and fear. In the distance, she could hear sounds of a fight.

Carefully, she looked over the edge of the platform. She could see someone approaching with a large piece of construction equipment in the distance. She bent over a little further, straining against the rope that bound her wrists to the platform railing. Her heart leapt when she saw Buffy, Spike and Angel below, trading blows with Glory by means of what appeared to be a very large hammer and several broadswords.

"Dawn! Dawn!"

Dawn looked up. "Oh my God. Rieff? Rieff! I'm here!"

Rieff was clambering up the scaffold. In one deft movement, he swung himself onto the platform. In his right hand, he held a large ax. He ran up and started to untie Dawn from the platform railing. "I'm sorry, I came as fast as I could. Giles and I got held up by some of Glory's minions. He's still down there fighting them." Frustrated, Rieff tugged at the knots of rope keeping Dawn tied to the platform.

"OK, don't panic. Take that one first. You can do this," Dawn said as reassuringly as she could, trying to remain still to make Rieff's task easier.

"Oh, I don't think he can." At the sound of the woman's voice behind them, Dawn and Rieff froze. "This portal is going to open, and Angelus and his precious slayer are going to be swallowed up, along with the rest of this miserable little world. Believe me, I've waited a long time to watch those two go to hell. I won't let you spoil my fun."

Dawn looked around. A thin blonde woman in a bright red dress was striding towards them. Her eyes glittered with fury. Before Rieff could so much as brace himself, Darla had produced a ceremonial dagger from behind her back, and slashed him across the stomach.

Rieff collapsed instantly. Dawn screamed.

"No! Buffy! Buffy!"

**ɤɤɤ**

Down below, Angel had just dealt Glory a devastating blow to the mid-section with his broadsword. Suddenly, he stopped cold in his tracks. He could hear Willow's voice in his head.

"Angel. There's someone up there with Dawn. I don't think it's Rieff or Giles. Help her."

Angel leapt off the ground and onto the nearby scaffolding. Before he'd reached the platform, he knew Dawn was in trouble. He could smell her blood.

When he reached the platform, he could see her standing by its edge, big gashes lining her stomach and legs, blood running down her body and dripping into the open air beyond the platform. He could feel the air crackling with electricity as the portal started to form just below.

Finally, Dawn saw him. "Angel, be careful! Darla-"

Angel felt someone gripping him from behind. He spun around.

"Well, hello lover. Here we are again, the two of us, in a place with a view. And the view's about to get even better." Darla grinned obscenely and ran the ceremonial dagger through her fingers. "Even death, with the right companion… wasn't that what you said, that time in France?"

Angel forced himself to remain calm and think. "That was a long time ago."

"Yes, it was. You loved me then."

Angel's eyes flashed angrily. "I didn't love you. I didn't know what love was then. I didn't have a soul."

Darla lunged at him, swinging the dagger. Angel took a step back, listening to the crackling air behind him, where he suspected the portal would begin to open any second.

"So you don't love me, your companion of 150 years, but you love that… that teenager. That's rich."

Before Angel could reply, he saw the expression on Darla's face change. The smile froze on her lips, and she lunged forward and pushed him aside.

Angel staggered backwards. Within a split second, he knew what had happened. While he had had his back turned, concentrating on Darla, Rieff had gotten up, staggering blindly and swinging his ax.

Following his instinct to protect Dawn, and fading fast, Rieff had aimed his ax at the closest moving thing – Angel. The blow rushed through the air where, seconds before, Angel had stood. Instead, it now connected with Darla's throat, slicing it clean through. With one last look at Angel, Darla crumbled to dust.

* * *

Farewell, Darla. It's been nice knowing you. The flashbacks throughout the story so far were designed to illustrate how Darla's feelings for Angel developed over time, and why she would act the way she did just now. She wanted Angel to die, but not as much as she wanted him to live.

Also, final confirmation: Stephen is Connor, and he's a slayer, and he's Buffy's son. *cue dramatic music*


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_Sunnydale, 1997_

He's killed me. I can see the stake. But he can't have. I'm his sire. He doesn't love me, not anymore. I told the slayer so. But I didn't really believe it. I thought if I tried, I would get him back. But he's killed me. He can't have. It's not fair. I'm not ready.

**ɤɤɤ**

Angel was still staring at the place where Darla had been a second ago, horrified. She had sacrificed herself for him. After doing her best to hurt him and the person he cared most about in the world, she had lain down her own life to protect him.

It took him a second to register that Spike and Buffy had arrived on the platform.

"Angel. Angel, what's happening?"

Angel shook his head forcefully, trying to clear his thoughts. Dimly, he heard Spike's voice.

"What's happening is that we're too late. The portal is open." In shock, the three of them watched as a bright white chasm widened beyond the edge of the platform, producing powerful lightning bolts that struck the buildings around them with deafening cracks.

Frantically, Buffy looked around until her eyes fell on Dawn, who was slumped against the edge of the platform, crying and still bleeding profusely. Buffy whirled around. "Spike. She needs help. Get her out of here."

"But-"

"Do it. Now."

Spike nodded. He sliced through Dawn's ties and scooped her up into his arms, running as fast as he could down the staircase at the side of the tower.

When they had gone, Buffy turned to Angel. "Angel, I need you to help me remember. What do we need to close the portal?"

With a supreme effort, Angel tore his thoughts away from Darla and tried to recall the contents of the ritual. "Only Dawn's blood can close the portal."

Buffy turned and looked at Angel. "The monks made Dawn from me. Her blood is my blood."

A horrible realization dawned upon Angel. "No. Buffy, no. You can't."

"I have to, Angel." She smiled sadly and touched his cheek. "It's what us hero types do. We save the world."

He took hold of her shoulders, all thoughts of Darla forgotten. "No, Buffy. I can't lose you."

"Angel, you know there's no choice. It's my life for the lives of thousands of others. It's a good trade." She touched his cheek. "I had a dream about this. I saw you, as a young boy, standing on top of this tower. You told me I'd have to give you up to save Dawn. I thought it meant you were going to die. But it was me all along. I'm the one who has to go."

Angel gripped her shoulders more tightly than ever. "Buffy, no. Let me come with you."

Buffy stood up on the tips of her toes and kissed Angel's forehead. "I thought you'd say that."

She aimed a powerful punch at the side of Angel's head. Taking advantage of Angel's momentary surprise, she broke free of his grasp and ran towards the end of the platform.

As Angel watched in horror, she dived off the edge and into the portal.

**ɤɤɤ**

Buffy was standing in a room that was completely, perfectly white. Confused, she looked around, trying to make sense of her surroundings.

She found that she was not surprised when the First Slayer appeared next to her. "Is this what it feels like to be dead? Am I in… heaven?"

The First Slayer said nothing for a little while. Then, Buffy heard a voice in her head. "You are not dead. You are here because there is something you must understand."

To her surprise, Buffy felt a tear running down her face. "I feel sad. Why do I feel sad?"

"Something has been taken from you."

Buffy spun around. "What do you mean?"

"You were with child."

"I… what?"

"You were to have a child."

"Listen, that's not possible. First of all, I would have known. Second of all, it's been ages since Riley and I…"

"The child was fathered by the vampire, Angel."

"Angel?" For a moment, Buffy was speechless. "You're wrong. Vampires can't have children. They're dead."

"This is true. But Angel underwent a three-part demonic trial to save the life of another. The life could not be granted to her. Instead, it passed to Angel. And then to you."

The mention of the trials stirred something in Buffy's memory. She thought back to what Angel had told her the night she had found him at the hotel. "I went to a… contact for help and he told me about these… these trials. Like a series of tests I would have to pass. That if I got through them, Darla would get another chance at life."

Angel had also told her that Darla had already had a second chance of life when Wolfram & Hart resurrected her, meaning his suffering during the trials had been for nothing.

Once again, Buffy heard the First Slayer's voice in her head. "Think. You know this to be true. You were expecting the vampire's child."

Buffy nodded slowly. She felt as though an ever-expanding hole had been torn in the middle of her chest. Suddenly, she remembered something. "You said something was taken from me." Angrily, she rounded on the First Slayer. With one leap, she had pinned her to the ground, the fingers of her right hand clamped around the First Slayer's throat. "Where is my child?"

The First Slayer threw Buffy off and sprang nimbly into a crouching position, ready for another attack. "It was not my choice to take your son. It was yours."

Buffy aimed a kick at the First Slayer, but the other woman was ready for her. She caught hold of Buffy's ankle and twisted it, forcing Buffy off her feet. "What do you mean, it was my choice?" she screamed angrily.

"In your dream, your son appeared to you. The dream was meant to give you a choice – to let you know that if you persisted in protecting the Key, it would cost the life of your son."

Buffy's mind worked frantically. She saw again the lanky, dark-haired boy from her dream. "You have to give me up if you want to save Dawn."

Buffy's tears came faster now. "Why? Why did I have to give him up?"

"By now, you must know the nature of portals such as this one. Once it has been opened, it can only be closed if the same blood is spilled which opened it."

"That's why I jumped. But you said I didn't die."

"No… you were lucky. The Powers That Be intervened on your behalf. They have need of you in the near future."

"Oh, that's great. But they don't have need of my son, do they?"

But the First Slayer had vanished. Buffy watched as her surroundings blurred into blackness. All around her, she heard screams, crying and confused voices.

Carefully, she opened her eyes. She saw Willow, Xander, Spike and Angel standing around her, tears running down their faces. Spike was bleeding heavily from a head wound.

"Guys?"

Xander was the first to recover. "Buffy? Oh my God. We thought you were dead."

Before Buffy could reply, she found herself enveloped in Angel's arms, his tears mixing with hers.

* * *

I wanted there to be a parallel to Buffy's traumatic experience of being torn out of heaven, without actually killing her. I thought the loss of her son would be just as, if not more, disturbing for her. It also poses the same dilemma – should Buffy tell her friends what really happened, or is it better to keep it a secret?


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

_From the Valet's Codex, Chapter 4: "Wherein are contained the rules of The Trials, a series of three tests through which a life may be won or restored"_

"… and should it befall that the life which has been won cannot be granted to the intended recipient, this life shall be bestowed upon the first woman who finds favor with the champion of the trials."

_From The Dark Chronicles, Vol. VI: "Of Portals"_

"Once opened, a gateway to another dimension cannot be easily closed. If the opening of the portal require blood, the same blood shall be required to close it once more; and one life's blood shall have to be taken."

**ɤɤɤ**

Buffy was standing at the top of Alta Vista Hill, looking down on Sunnydale. She had been coming here almost every day since the final battle with Glory. She needed time to think, and she frequently found Revello Drive too crowded for that purpose.

In the end, she had chosen not to tell the whole truth about her conversation with the First Slayer. As far as her friends knew, her life had been saved due to the intervention of the Powers That Be. She wasn't ready to share the knowledge that she and Angel had had a son, and that their son was gone.

The last person she wanted to tell was Angel. She knew that sharing the pain of losing a child with him might make it easier for her, but when she thought of the distress this knowledge would cause him, she was sure she was making the right decision. Angel's only chance to be a father, taken away from him like that. He could never know.

She was aware that in trying to keep the source of her grief from all her friends, she had withdrawn from them – no one more so than Angel. He had repeatedly tried to engage her in a conversation about their future, and continued to find excuses to postpone his return to Los Angeles.

But each time, Buffy had brushed him off. Sometimes, she found herself wishing he would leave and never return, rather than look at her too closely when she was off her guard, and guess her secret.

Buffy stood looking down at the city until after the sun had set. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't even notice the soft sound of footsteps approaching.

"See anything interesting down there?"

"Spike. I thought you would've left town with your gal pal by now."

Spike shrugged and casually pulled a cigarette out of his coat pocket. "She didn't exactly want to stick with me after I knocked her out for the big fight. Again. So I let her go on her merry way."

"So you came up here for a shoulder to cry on?" Buffy finally tore her eyes off the view and glared at Spike. "There are no words for how much I'm not in the mood."

"Not exactly. I came up here because I figured you needed company."

"Well, you figured wrong."

Spike lit his cigarette and lounged against the side of a rock nearby. "Whatever you say. But something happened to you when you went through that portal. And you'll have to talk about it some time."

"How do you figure something happened?"

"I figure because you're up here instead of down there with Captain Forehead and the super-friends. I figure because through some bloody miracle, none of us actually died confronting the bitch-God from hell. Not even the little bit's boyfriend, and he had a damn close call. Through some crazy stroke of luck, the Glory chick turned into Ben, and Ben managed to get himself killed, solving all our problems for us in the process." Spike produced a flask from his coat pocket and unscrewed it. "And yet, you've barely cracked a smile since the whole thing went down."

"Give me that." Buffy grabbed the flask and took a big swig. "Ugh."

They looked down at Sunnydale together in silence for a while. Finally, Buffy spoke.

"Even if I tried to explain, you wouldn't understand."

"Oh, sure. This is the whole 'you don't have a soul' thing again, isn't it? Give me some credit here, love. I've fought by your side for a good while now, and I've been in the world a whole lot longer. Seen a few things."

Buffy passed the flask back to Spike. She turned to go, but suddenly stopped. "Angel and I were going to have a son. He died when I went through the portal."

Spike looked up in astonishment, lost for words.

"Angel can never know."

Without looking back again, Buffy kept walking until she vanished beyond the crest of the hill.

**ɤɤɤ**

The call that finally took Angel away came on a Tuesday. What he hadn't expected was that it came from The Host, owner of the demon bar Caritas.

"Look, Angelcakes, I know you were very busy averting the big scary apocalypse over there in Sunnydale, but now that that's over and done with, there's a scary beasty that's crossed over from my home not-so-sweet home, and it can't possibly be a good thing. Your friends here have been doing the best they can, but this screams 'champion.'"

Angel thought back to his latest conversation with Buffy. It had been a painful one. More than once, she had hinted that he should return to Los Angeles. It wasn't the first time she had done so, but he was reluctant to abide by her wishes because he could tell that something was extremely wrong.

Sometimes, he remembered his obsession with Darla, and wondered how it could ever have seemed so important. Every once in a while, he felt a faint sense of sadness when he thought of Darla's actions at the top of the tower, but any serious thoughts of what might have motivated her to act as she did had moved to the back of his mind.

He suspected Buffy's strange behavior was a result of her experience after jumping into the portal, and part of him was desperate to find out if Buffy had told him the whole truth of what she had seen and heard.

And yet, Buffy had made it more than clear last night that she didn't want him around anymore.

"Angel? Are you still on the line, pastries?"

"I am. And don't call me pastries."

"Well, are you coming?"

"Give me a couple of hours to pack up. I'll be there tonight."

* * *

Once again, Spike is the one Buffy takes into her confidence about what really happened after she jumped into the portal. I think it's natural for Buffy to be reluctant to cause Angel pain by telling him the truth, but you have to talk to _someone_ about these things.


	16. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_The Gall'uth Dimension, Year 19 after the Deliverance_

"There's one thing I still don't understand. If a life needed to be taken to close the portal, shouldn't I be dead instead of just ending up in another dimension?"

"Ordinarily, yes. But there is one thing you do not consider. You are the son of a slayer and a vampire – an unprecedented creature. The traditional laws do not seem to apply to you. Consider this: In the many thousands of years the slayer line has existed, no other male has ever been chosen for the calling."

Stephen was walking rapidly up the hillside that led to the forest. It was less than an hour since the First Slayer had appeared in his bedroom and announced that the time had come to return to his home dimension.

He had wanted to say goodbye to his parents, but the First Slayer had urged a speedy departure. "The Powers That Be have given me form only for a few hours so I may guide you to the portal," she had said. "The portal will open only once, and only for a short period of time. Portals are strange, powerful things – the Powers cannot risk an innocent coming upon this one by accident."

And so it was that Stephen was now sprinting across the starlit landscape, the dark tree line rapidly approaching. When he had finally reached the first trees of the forest, he hesitated.

"Will I be able to return here?"

"This I cannot tell. But know this: Time moves differently in other dimensions. While you have grown into a young man, only a few weeks have passed for your parents since you were lost."

"So what you're telling me is that even if I come back, everyone I knew here is likely to be dead?"

"Yes."

"And that the people you say are my real parents are barely older than I am?"

"This is true of your mother, but your father is more than 200 years older."

Stephen turned away from the forest and looked down at the distant houses, which would soon start to show signs of life. If he hurried, his parents need never realize he had left.

"I know what you are thinking. But know this: Tonight is your only chance to find out who you really are. If you do not go now, you will never be able to know your true parents."

Connor still hesitated.

"But that is not all."

The First Slayer continued to speak while Stephen watched as the first red gleam appeared over the far-off hills. Several minutes passed.

"Do you see now?"

Stephen took off the little backpack he was wearing and produced a small dagger. "Yes. I see."

Without looking back, he strode into the forest. When he reached the clearing, it was to find the air flickering and crackling with electricity. At the center of the disturbance, little bigger than a pin, he could see a small patch of night sky – the other side of the portal.

He hesitated for several seconds. Finally, he gripped his dagger firmly and stepped into the portal. It closed behind him, and the form of the First Slayer dissolved, leaving only silence behind it as the sun rose over Gall'uth.

* * *

**To be continued…**

When Angel's friends return from Lorne's home dimension of Pylea, they find that Angel has mysteriously disappeared. What's more, all evidence of his existence has been erased. When the memories of the Angel Investigations team begin to fade too, they know they must act quickly. Will they be able to convince Buffy and her friends of Angel's existence? Can Buffy act fast enough to free Angel from his hellish prison in the no-man's-land between dimensions? And what role does the mysterious arrival of a nameless young man play in all this?


End file.
